Killing Four
by wee kraken
Summary: Four is dead. I've killed him. He was an ideal, a Dauntless prodigy that never really existed. INSURGENT FOUR POV - starting in Candor. Spoilers, obviously.
1. Chapter 1

**Hi - this is my first fanfic ever - I read Insurgent and loved it, even more than Divergent, mostly because I thought Four's character was so complex. So this is a Four POV - not an original idea, I know, but I really wanted to get into his head more. This was originally going to be a one shot of the scene that really got to me, when he had to take truth serum. But then it turned into chapters, and well...review, because if there's interest, I'll keep going.**

**I don't own Divergent, Insurgent, or any thing that's reproduced here. Though I wish I did.  
**

* * *

I have four fears, but the truth isn't one of them. I am honest with myself…if not always honest with others. Now I'm locked in a Candor cell with the only person I have ever been fully truthful with, and it feels like there's a wall between us. And _that_ I am afraid of, that after everything we've been through, Tris doesn't trust me. And if she doesn't trust me, how can she truly love me?

Neither of us speak.

Tris starts pacing, a ball of nervous energy. But I am still. Until I see a way out of this, there's no point in panicking.

"Can you please calm down?" I say, a little louder than I intended. "You're making me nervous."

"This is me calming down," she says, biting her lower lip so hard it bleeds.

I don't look her in the eye as she sits, folding in on herself, making herself small, closed off. Something big is troubling her, and I can tell she's feeling guilty about it. I had thought it was grief, deep sorrow and guilt over her parents' deaths, but now I'm not so sure. She can't even pick up a gun anymore. It's like she's given up, and she hasn't told me why.

Maybe I should just ask. This is Candor after all.

"Sometimes, I worry that you don't trust me." I say quietly, finally turning to look at her. She doesn't look up.

"I trust you," she says to the floor. "Of course I trust you. Why would you think otherwise?"

"Just seems like there's something you're not telling me. I told you things…" I shake my head. She knows exactly what it's cost me to bare my soul - it's made me vulnerable, not exactly an asset for a Dauntless male…or Marcus's son. I wish I knew why she refuses to pay the same price.

"I told you things I would have never told anyone else. Something's been going on with you though, and you haven't told me yet."

"There's been a lot going on. You know that," she says. She sounds angry. "And what about you? I could say the same thing to you."

Right. Evelyn. I should have known this would come up. I didn't tell Tris about my mother because I still don't know what to think about her myself. She abandoned me, and when I decided not to leave Dauntless, I never thought I would see her again. Marcus was so bad that Evelyn was just an afterthought. I would have told Tris about her eventually… but now everything has changed, and thrown my feelings about Evelyn into confusion. We might need the factionless. I might need my mother. The concept is so foreign to me, I can't even think straight about it yet.

I'm sure as hell not going to talk about it now.

I do know how I feel about Tris. I touch her cheek, her hair. She finally looks up, and her eyes look desperate. I start to worry. This isn't about me, or us, it's about herself. She doesn't trust herself, and that's dangerous. So I give her one more opportunity to tell me, to let me help her.

"If it's just about your parents, tell me and I'll believe you."

She looks at me, and her eyes take me back to the simulation training room at Dauntless, Tris pausing at the door, looking right through me, saying nothing while telling me everything.

Then she slams the door shut.

"That's all it is."

I want to kiss that door open again, but I won't get the chance. Jack Kang, representative of Candor, walks in with some guards. We're definitely in big trouble, otherwise he wouldn't bother with two Dauntless teenagers. He tells me I'm accused of crimes against humanity, and Tris of being my accomplice. Yeah, that's us, Four and Six, the Dauntless Duo of Evil. I almost laugh, but then I get angry. Why aren't they over at Erudite headquarters arresting Jeanine Matthews?

We protest, loudly, but it's pointless. The Candor haven't chosen sides, they just want the truth. And we're going to give it to them, whether we want to or not.

As Kang tells us that they'll interrogate us using truth serum, Tris's eyes grow wide with fear. I watch her, shocked, though I keep my expression neutral for the guards. Six, the Divergent, afraid of a _serum_? I can't imagine what she would have to worry about from a Candor interrogation. Suddenly, I realize that I know very little about what happened to Tris after Jeanine put me under. I know her mother saved her from execution, but Caleb is the one who told me the details. I've never pressed her on it - I almost killed her too, and I don't like to talk about it much either. Whatever she's not telling me, she's sure the truth serum will reveal it. She's terrified of the consequences, and there's nothing I can do to help her.

I'm not wild about the idea of truth serum either, but strangely, I feel almost peaceful, resigned – even though I have much more to hide. I'm Divergent, I could try to fight the serum, but I don't think I will. I'll try to preserve my dignity, but if the Candor want to strip me bare, so be it. I know my choice for Dauntless was wrong, I know I am a coward. If I really want to be fearless, it's time to finally tell the truth.

They take Tris and me down together, surrounded by Dauntless guards. One of them is Christina, Tris's smart-mouth friend from initiation. She seems less snarky than she used to be, talking to Tris quietly ahead of me, and I hear her voice catch as she tells Tris that her boyfriend Will died in the attack. I bow my head briefly in respect, he was a good guy. When I look up, I glance at Tris. The last thing she needs is more grief. But her face is oddly blank.

"I know," Tris says to Christina, "I saw him on the monitors when I was in the control room."

I stop listening to the rest of the conversation, and just stare at Tris's back. She stiffens; she can tell I'm glaring at her. I know she didn't see Will on the monitors, and I know she isn't lying just to make Christina feel better. Something happened to her friend during the simulation, and she was there.

The doors open to the courtroom, and I forget Will for now. The light hits two chairs at the center of the room. I grab Tris's hand as we walk towards them. She is the only one who really knows me as I am, as a Divergent, as Tobias. I have a feeling that Four is about to die in one of those chairs. But he won't give up easily.


	2. Chapter 2

**And...let the truthiness begin. Yep, still don't own Divergent, or Insurgent. Darn.**

* * *

Heavy. I feel heavy. I never knew honesty carried this much weight. I know there is a crowd surrounding me, but everything shrinks until all I can hear is the interrogator – and even his first question is difficult to answer.

"What is your name?"

I lied to myself. I am not ready for this. Both my names bubble up to my lips. I am only willing to say one.

"Four."

"That is a nickname. What is your real name?" The questioner is not shouting, but my brain can hear nothing else. Maybe there are easier ways to deal with the truth. I can parcel it out piece by piece.

"Tobias."

"What are the names of your parents, Tobias?"

Here we go. Damn the Candor. They have to probe everything, they can't just stick to the issue at hand. They're accusing me, not my parents – though Marcus and Evelyn have plenty of guilt to go around. I knew this would happen, and I thought I was prepared for it…but for two years, I've been Four, and I have fought and bled to stay that way. I'm not ready to let go.

I clench my teeth, and snarl different words from what the serum tells me to say.

"Why is this relevant?"

I look up at the interrogator defiantly, and all I can see are his eyes. They become brighter and brighter, spotlighting all the things I've kept hidden.

"Maybe it wasn't relevant before, Tobias, but it is now that you've resisted answering the question. The names of your parents, please."

I can't stand to look at his face anymore. I close my eyes, and I feel even heavier, the gravity of my past chaining me to the marble floor. Just one answer, and I can feel lighter. At least that's what the thrumming in my head is telling me.

"Evelyn and Marcus Eaton."

Even under the influence of the serum, I can hear the whispers surrounding me, and I don't feel lighter. I feel panic. Years of hiding bruises and scars, being locked in closets. Years of hiding behind my fierce Dauntless nickname, punching concrete walls in the fear landscape, alone. I've already shared my past with the only person I've ever felt close to, the only person I ever want to tell. This isn't the way I want to show the world who I really am. I am Divergent, and I will fight.

"You transferred from Abnegation to Dauntless?"

Now I am angry. The weight of the serum tries to flatten my anger without success. I throw it off and raise my head.

"Yes. Isn't that obvious?"

The questions press on. "One of the purposes of this interrogation is to determine your loyalties. So I must ask: why did you transfer?"

I stare into his probing eyes. I can fight. I may even win. The weight presses down, like it could press the truth out of my pores. I breathe in and out, and say nothing.

Niles blinks in surprise at my resistance. "I'll ask again. Why did you transfer to Dauntless, Tobias?"

It's the use of my Abnegation name that catches me. Tris is the only one that calls me that. She is the only reason I have stuck with Dauntless, with Four. She is brave, and I am a coward. I glance up and see her, her face etched with concern. I want to tell her she doesn't need to worry. I could fight the serum, but I'm finished with fighting. Honesty is a virtue - the scales are tattooed on my back. It takes courage to be honest.

I open my mouth, and I already feel lighter.

"To protect myself. I transferred to protect myself."

"Protect yourself from what?"

"From my father."

I hear the Candor whisper around me, thanking me for my honesty. I feel clear, almost high, as I answer more questions – about being Divergent, the simulations, and Tris – punching her, almost killing her. I find her eyes in the crowd and hold them as I tell the entire crowd how she saved me, how we stopped the simulation.

But the Candor aren't done with me yet. It isn't enough to uncover my horrible childhood, or reveal my Divergence. They need to expose me completely. And this time, I let them.

"Tobias Eaton, what are your deepest regrets?"

"I regret…"

I consider my answer, and surprisingly, the serum lets me think. I know what I want to say. It may get me kicked out of Dauntless. If not, I'll have to fight for their respect as Tobias instead of Four. But that's a test I can easily pass, and it's not what I'm worried about. I sigh.

"I regret my choice."

"What choice?"

"Dauntless," I say clearly. "I was born for Abnegation. I was planning on leaving Dauntless, and becoming factionless."

I find Tris in the crowd again. She is the only thing I don't regret in my life. The only person I love. Loving someone that much makes me vulnerable, it's changed my decisions, my life. I've bound myself to her. It scares me. And I'm pretty sure I'm about to scare her.

I take a deep breath. "But then I met _her_, and…I felt like maybe I could make something more of my decision."

Her face goes still, her eyes wide, fixed on mine. I have no idea what she's thinking. Then I look away, toward the faction members that surround her. I have to face the Dauntless as well.

"Choosing Dauntless in order to escape my father was an act of cowardice. I regret that cowardice. It means I am not worthy of my faction. I will always regret it."

Four is dead. I've killed him. He was an ideal, a Dauntless prodigy that never really existed. My faction stares back at me. For a crowd of Dauntless, the silence is deafening. But it's the first time I've felt brave enough to truly join them.


	3. Chapter 3

**Thanks so much for all of the positive feedback - think this has a bit more in it, so I'll keep going. Can't. Stop. Now it's time for Tris to face the music...review please.**

* * *

As I stand up from the hard wooden chair, the truth serum is already wearing off. I can see the crowd parting as Tris is led towards the center of the room. She looks more determined than scared now, and I grab her hand for a moment as she passes me.

I turn to watch her, and I can hear muttering from the Dauntless behind me. They're talking about me, and I can already tell it's hostile. But Tris has just pushed the needle into her neck, and she is the only thing I see.

She stumbles on the way to the chair, and I see what I must have looked like a few minutes ago – vacant eyes, slumped posture, so little control. It's like a living nightmare. I fold my arms, and stare, as if my eyes alone could will Tris through this. At first, she doesn't need the help. Unlike me, questions about her parents' names aren't hard to answer. Then the interrogator asks her why she transferred to Dauntless, and she seems to struggle. She closes her eyes.

"I wasn't good enough for Abnegation," she says quietly, "and I wanted to be free. So I chose Dauntless."

I smile a little, remembering Tris sitting a hundred feet up on that Ferris wheel platform, swinging her legs as she looked out over the city - free, alive, unencumbered by fear. The next question brings me back down to earth.

"Why weren't you good enough?"

"Because I was selfish," she says.

"You _were_ selfish? You aren't anymore?"

She looks up, her eyes wandering. I wish she would look at me, because I know how selfless she really is, even if she won't admit it to herself.

"Of course I am. My mother said that everyone is selfish," she says, "but I became less selfish in Dauntless. I discovered there were people I would fight for. Die for, even."

Tris looks surprised by her own answer, the depth of her selflessness. Maybe when you're raised by the Abnegation, trained to project always outward, it takes truth serum to really know yourself. She doesn't seem to be fighting it – at least not yet. She starts to tell the story of the attack, her thwarted execution, her mother's death. I clutch my arms, aching for her, willing it to be over.

"I kept running…and…" She pauses. Tris is sweating, gripping the arms of her chair. Now she is fighting the serum, I can tell. Either she doesn't want to relive her grief again, or she is hiding something - something that happened in the streets of Abnegation.

"I found my brother and father. We formed a plan to destroy the simulation."

She slumps in her chair, and I look down, frowning. Something is wrong. She beat the serum just then, otherwise, she'd still be talking. But she doesn't look defiant. She looks defeated.

"We infiltrated the Dauntless compound, and my father and I went up to the control room. He fought off Dauntless soldiers at the expense of his life," she finally continues. " I made it up to the control room, and Tobias was there."

I raise my head and look at her with concern. Her deliberate answers are gone. She is talking quickly now, losing control. She is not fighting anymore, and I have never seen Tris give up on a fight. Even that thug Peter couldn't beat her into submission.

"Tobias said you fought him, but then stopped. Why did you do that?"

"Because I realized that one of us would have to kill the other," she says, "and I didn't want to kill him."

"You gave up?"

"No!" she almost yells. Maybe she's not done fighting yet_._ "No, not exactly. I remembered something I had done in my fear landscape in Dauntless initiation…in a simulation, a woman demanded that I kill my family, and I let her shoot me instead. It worked then. I thought…"

She pinches the bridge of her nose, the same way I do when I'm searching for the right way to describe something.

"I was so frantic, but all I could think that there was something to it; there was a strength in it. And I couldn't kill him, so I had to try."

_Oh Tris._ She _didn't_ know it would work. She had told me she couldn't shoot me, that it would have been like shooting herself. But to avoid killing me, she was ready to sacrifice her own life. And I never, ever want her to make that kind of choice again.

I look at her eyes as she blinks, willing tears not to fall, as she tells the entire room she is Divergent. The whispers start. Then Niles surprises me. He doesn't question her – he praises her.

"I think I speak for everyone when I say that you have earned the title of Dauntless."

Shouts surround me as our faction members pump their fists in the air. At least Tris still belongs with them. But as she lifts her head, she doesn't look proud. She looks haunted.

"Beatrice Prior," says Niles, "what are your deepest regrets?"

I clench my jaw in anger - I can't believe he's doing this to Tris too. She finally looks up into the crowd, eyes searching until she finds me. Her gaze locks on mine, and suddenly I can't breathe. I don't know what her regrets are. I am not sure I want to find out…because they may be about me. I know my expression is blank, an emotional survival tactic I learned when facing my father's fists. But I dig my fingers into my arms until they throb with pain.

"I regret…"

She gasps out a name. And it is not mine.

"Will."

Christina shifts beside me, but I keep my eyes on Tris. Now I know why she is looking at me – because it took truth serum to get her to be honest with me.

"I shot Will, while he was under the simulation." Her low voice is scratchy and strained, ready to break. "I killed him. He was going to kill me, but I killed him. My friend."

Her eyes glaze over, and she lowers her head, heavy with guilt. Christina's hands curl into fists. I should feel sorry for her, for Will's life, for Tris's pain. Instead, I feel betrayed. _Thank you for your honesty_. The Candor whispers swirl around me, but I say nothing.

* * *

As Tris gets up from her chair, she's surrounded by Dauntless members, and I can't reach her. I see Jack Kang, the Candor representative, over by the wall, and corner him instead.

"I guess you'll agree that we haven't committed crimes against humanity? After that ordeal, we might as well be Candor initiates," I snap. I don't even try to suppress my anger. That interrogation wasn't just a fact-finding mission. Sheltering us is risky. He wanted to break us open, to humiliate us so we'd leave.

"I am Candor, and I admit when I'm wrong," Jack states flatly. "Clearly, you're innocent, and you're free to move about the compound. That is, if you decide to remain with the Dauntless."

At least it isn't a hidden agenda. I glare at him. "I have no intention of leaving my faction."

"Well let's hope they want to keep you," Jack says.

I clench my jaw and stare him down. After a few seconds, he looks away.

"I'd like our weapons back," I say coldly. Jack may be brutally honest, but I still don't trust him or his faction. There's no way we're going to walk around this place unarmed.

I walk over to Tris, gun and knife in hand, and see her talking to Christina, who turns and walks away. Tris's posture sags, and I know she is barely keeping it together. So much for the perfect couple - she's running on guilt, and I'm seething with anger, at her, at everyone. But I also can't stand to watch her suffer.

"I got our weapons back," I say as I hand the knife over. She doesn't look me in the eye.

"We can talk about it tomorrow," I say quietly. There's no need to say anything else. Not right now.

I slip an arm over her shoulder and she grabs my hip as we walk out. We hold each other together.

* * *

Late that night, I wake to find Tris's bed empty. I'm guessing she went where she knows I won't follow; she's probably on top of a roof somewhere. I need to find my own place to think. I shrug into a black jacket and put the hood up, and take the elevator down to the back entrance to the Merciless Mart. The Dauntless guards stare daggers at me, but they don't ask me where I'm going. Maybe they're hoping I won't come back.

I head straight for the train tracks. The Erudite couldn't jump on a train if they tried, and the factionless won't touch me as long as Evelyn still thinks I could be useful. As for the Dauntless traitors, bring it on. I'd be happy to meet one in a train car. I'm itching for a fight, especially with the mood I'm in right now. But the midnight train is dark, fast, and empty. I lay on the floor with my head facing the open door and watch the city's ruined buildings fly by.

I think about Candor. Of the five, it's the faction I would be least likely to join. I've always seen the way they pursue truth as over the top, an unfeeling invasion of privacy. It's truth without consequences…unless you're the one telling it.

I grew up in a house full of lies. Marcus lied about my mother's death. He lied about my injuries. He lied about the other factions, in an attempt to keep me in his. Then I left that hellhole for Dauntless, and made sure to keep the truth hidden. Until I met Tris.

I need to find out why she lied to me. She's better than that. She's better than me. And I want her. I want her to trust me, to love me, to kiss me, to meld her body to mine…to stay awake…to stay alive. She was there with me, every part of her, I know she was, even if she never said so. Now I'm not so sure.

I stand up and lean out of the train car, letting the wind whip my shirt, clear my mind. Maybe the Candor have the right idea after all, at least when it comes to loving someone more than life. No secrets. No lies. You crack, you rip, you break, you spill your guts out into the open and sift through the wreckage. Together.


	4. Chapter 4

**Ugh, fight scene (with a bonus). But I still love looking at it from Four's eyes. Not done yet, so keep reading...gonna keep it going for a while longer! Will update again soon.**

**Disclaimer, as usual, I don't own Insurgent or anything reproduced here, goshdarnit.**

* * *

When I get back to Candor headquarters, it's nearly dawn, and the two Dauntless guards at the entrance look asleep on their feet. But they rouse themselves enough to challenge me. I lower my hood and keep my hands in view.

"Hey Four." It's Jason, a Dauntless-born from my initiate class, a big, friendly brute who barely scraped through initiation. He's been a fence guard ever since.

"Tobias," sneers the other, an older fence guard I only know by sight. "Thought you took off, joined the factionless."

So this is how it's going to be. I am not leaving Dauntless, so I'm going to have to beat them at their own game…and I'm pretty good at playing it.

When I answer him, my voice is quiet, and deadly.

"Do I look like I'm running away?"

"You wouldn't run back to your Stiff daddy, that's for sure."

How original. I flick my eyes away for a moment, and wait until he moves towards me. I grab his arm, wrench it behind him, and disarm him, turning his own gun on him. He freezes, fear flickering behind his eyes.

"No, I'd rather stay," I say slowly, clicking the safety off. He flinches. "Unless you have a problem with that."

He shakes his head quickly. "Hey Four, I was just kidding around." I look over at Jason, who hasn't even raised his weapon.

He grins. "Nice move, man. Think they better send Chad back to basic training."

I lower the gun, and look at him coldly. Jason gives me a sympathetic grimace. "Look, Four, I have no problem with you. We all have our issues, we just haven't had to tell everyone what they are," he says. "The Candor are a bunch of sick bastards. I can't wait to get out of here."

If only we had somewhere to go. I clap him on the shoulder and hand him Chad's gun.

"See you later, Jason."

I shove past Chad and walk into the building. That's one way to gain respect and trust among the Dauntless – you beat it out of them. But that doesn't work on me, and it certainly won't work with Tris. I wish I knew what did.

I don't have long to wait. I look up as she walks towards our beds. She looks exhausted, her mouth set in a tense line. Wherever she was all night, she didn't get any rest, or any resolution. Part of me wants to take her in my arms and kiss all of that regret away, but we tried that in Amity, and it didn't solve anything. I want to kiss her when she isn't consumed with grief, when I'm not desperately trying to get her to open up. I want to kiss her when all she wants is to be with me.

I stand up and walk to the elevators, and I don't say a word. I know she'll follow me. I sneak a look at her on the way down, and she is shaking. I stop looking at her, because I can't stand to watch her struggle.

We step out into the lobby, right over the inlaid marble scales. I cross my arms and put my head down and wait for her to speak, because I honestly don't know what to say to her. I've never learned how to have an argument. Growing up with Marcus, everything was black and white, like the floor tiles I'm standing on. Disagreements were solved with violence. I'd kill myself before I'd let that happen with Tris.

She isn't saying anything, though. I raise my head and look at her, and she looks ready to explode. Fine. I've never sheltered her before, if I'm disappointed in her, I'm going to let her know.

"You didn't tell me. Why not?"

"Because I didn't...I didn't know how," she mumbles.

I scowl. I don't know how to do any of this either. But at least I'm trying.

"It's pretty _easy_, Tris – "

"Oh yeah," she says roughly. "It's _so_ easy. All I have to do is go up to you and say, 'by the way, I shot Will, and now guilt is ripping me to shreds, but what's for breakfast?' Right? _Right?" _She sounds wild, angry. "Why don't _you_ try killing one of your best friends and then dealing with the consequences?"

She buries her face in her hands, and I feel terrible. I'm not trying to hurt her. I just want to help her, and I can't do that if she doesn't feel like she can tell me things. I can't protect her. I feel like it's us against the world, and the world is a pretty dangerous place right now. If we can't trust in each other, we won't just destroy our relationship. We could lose our lives.

I put my hand on her shoulder. As always, I struggle with kindness. "Tris, I'm sorry. I shouldn't pretend that I understand. I just meant that…I wish you trusted me enough to tell me things like that."

We lock eyes for a moment, and I don't see trust in her gaze, I see guilt. And I can't hold back my frustration.

"I mean, I had to find out that you almost drowned in a water tank from Caleb. Doesn't that seem a little strange to you?"

She stares at me, and her face grows hard. I guess I've said the wrong thing.

"Other things seem stranger," she says, her voice breathy. I am quiet and menacing when I'm angry. Tris can be sarcastic and cruel. She won't spare me; I wouldn't want her to. "Like finding out that your boyfriend's supposedly dead mother is still alive by _seeing her in person._ Or overhearing his plans to ally with the factionless, but he never tells you about it." She straightens up and her eyes narrow. "That seems a little strange to me."

I take my hand off her shoulder. It's not the same thing at all.

"Don't pretend this is only my problem," she snaps. "If I don't trust you, you don't trust me either."

She doesn't get it. I'm still working that stuff out in my head, and I'm not ready to talk about it yet. That doesn't mean I won't. It's why the trust thing is so important – she has to trust that I'll tell her when I'm ready to make a decision, so we can make it together.

"I thought we would get to those things eventually," I say, hoping she'll understand. "Do I have to tell you everything right away?"

I realize as soon as the words are out of my mouth how hypocritical that sounds. And judging from the redness of her cheeks, so does she.

"God, _Four_!" she yells. "You don't want to have to tell me everything right away, but I have to tell you everything right away. Can't you see how stupid that is?"

She's right. And I don't really care. If she's going to call me Four, I'll act like him.

"First of all, don't use that name like a weapon against me." I say, pointing my finger at her, like we're back in the training room. "Second, I was not making plans to ally with the factionless; I was just thinking it over. If I had made a decision, I would have said something to you. And third, it would be different if you had actually intended to tell me about Will at some point, but it's obvious that you didn't."

I fold my arms and glower at her. She steps closer to me, and even through the anger I can feel the electricity. I want to close my eyes and breathe her air. She looks up at me, and bites her lip.

"I did tell you about Will!" she says. "That wasn't truth serum; it was me. I said it because I chose to."

I step back. That doesn't make any sense.

"What are you talking about?"

"I was aware. Under the serum. I could have lied; I could have kept it from you. But I didn't, because I thought you deserved to know the truth."

Half of me marvels at her power – her resistance to the truth serum was much stronger than mine. But this makes me angrier than anything else she's told me. That interrogation was public torture for both of us, and she used it as a way to be _honest with me_?

"What a way to tell me! In front of over a hundred people! How intimate!" I am almost yelling, and for me, that is never good.

"Oh, so it's not enough that I told you; it has to be in the right setting?" Tris says, her tone cruel. "Next time should I brew some tea and make sure the lighting is right, too?"

I growl, frustrated, and turn away. I have to calm down. If this was a fight with Marcus, or even among the Dauntless, punches would have been thrown by now. I never thought Tris could push my buttons this way. I pace back and forth, clenching and unclenching my fists. I take a deep breath, then another, until I feel calmer, and turn back towards her.

"Sometimes, it isn't easy to be with you Tris."

I look away from her. I want to tell her that I wouldn't love her if it _was_ easy. She is the most complex person I know. She is strong, smart, and unpredictable. I admire her for that. But I can't talk to her. She is pulling away from me, closing in on herself to deal with all of the terrible things that have happened, that will happen. I want to reach out and pull her close so we can deal with it together.

I turn back to her, and she is closer than I thought. Her eyes are sad, the anger gone.

"I'm sorry," she says. "I should have been honest with you."

I close my eyes, then open them again. "That's it, that's all you want to say?"

She looks at me. "What else do you want me to say?"

I want you to say that you won't lie to me again. I want you to say that we need each other. I want you to say that you'll trust me with anything, that you'll trust me with your life, like I trust you with mine. I want you to say that you love me.

But I can't say any of those things. She has to want to say them herself. I shake my head and look down.

"Nothing, Tris. Nothing."

I lean towards her, aching to touch her. Instead I turn and walk away.


	5. Chapter 5

**More Four, more Four. You like, or not? Let me know. I'll continue to update if people are into it. **

* * *

After I leave Tris, I wander the Candor halls for hours - I have nowhere to go. Tris and I aren't talking to each other, Zeke is a traitor, and Shauna thinks I have Divergent horns growing out of the top of my head. Everywhere I turn, there are annoying Candor arguing with each other at top volume, and I can't think. I never thought I'd miss the Amity compound, but at least that place had some peace and quiet. I'm considering braving the roof when I hear a sharp voice calling my name.

"Four!" Harrison jogs up to me and claps me on the back. He used to command the city patrols before the Abnegation sent the Dauntless to guard the fence. Then he took a job in the control room, splitting shifts with me. "A bunch of us are meeting in the Gathering Place." He says the name of the Candor common room with a phony British accent, rolling his eyes. I grin. "You should come."

"Why?"

"We need to make some decisions, and I think anyone who was ranked first deserves a seat at the table," he shrugs.

Tris was ranked first too. But she's getting ready to go climb a skyscraper to spy on the Erudite. If I try to rope her into this, she'll just think I'm being overprotective. I sigh and turn to follow Harrison into the room.

There are around fifty Dauntless members spread out among the tables, most of them at least ten years older than me. And they are already arguing.

"Look, I for one am sick of being ordered around by a bunch of nosy lawyers! I say we go over to Erudite and take them out!" shouts a woman with blue streaked hair. Shauna's mother.

"With what, our bare hands?" sneers one of the older fence guards. "The Erudite have better technology, and some of our best fighters have turned traitor."

"Well, we're sitting ducks if we stay here," Shauna's mother says angrily. She's got that right. Candor isn't as peace loving as the Amity, but they're too open and honest to be suspicious. With the exception of the courtrooms and cells, security here is pretty basic.

Everyone starts shouting at once, and I sigh. My faction isn't known for forethought, or subtlety. All of our leaders have turned traitor, and now we're adrift.

Someone bangs their fist on the table, and things calm down a bit. Harrison raises his voice above the din.

"Look, right now we're stuck. The Candor won't take sides, the Amity won't fight, and we killed most of the Abnegation," he says.

At the mention of what happened during the simulation, the crowd goes quiet, their faces stricken. I know how they feel.

Harrison clears his throat awkwardly. "Anyway…well…the point is, we're alone. We have no allies."

"We might." They all turn to look at me.

A man with a shaved head and a tattooed skull glares at me – Sean, a Dauntless-born a few years older than me. "Yeah? And who might that be?" he says.

"The factionless."

A few of the members bust out laughing. Sean laughs loudest. "Oh right, _Tobias_. Your starving, dumpster diving buddies."

I stare at him coldly. "They're not what you think. They're organized, and they're armed. And a lot of them used to be Dauntless."

"Yeah, old people, and initiation washouts," shouts someone from the corner.

I shrug. "I'd bet on them over any Candor, Amity, or Erudite."

"Why would they fight with us? We haven't exactly been nice to them over the years," says a quiet voice. It belongs to a small woman in her late forties with blond hair and bright green eyes. Something in her level gaze reminds me of Tris.

"We'd probably have to make some deals," I say uneasily. I'm not sure about this myself, but we don't have much in the way of options.

"What do you suggest, Four?" Harrison says.

I straighten up. "First, we need to increase security here. Candor-born Dauntless should head that up, they know the place best."

I scan the room and spot Christina over by the door, her arms crossed, face still. She looks at me and nods.

"And…well, the factionless have their own leader. I can talk to her." Great. Now I really will have to negotiate with my mother.

Sean walks over to me and stops, fists clenched.

"And who elected you God, Tobias?" he snarls. He turns to the room and shouts. "Because I'm not going to take orders from a coward."

A few of the younger members yell their agreement. I walk up to Sean, and get right in his face. The room goes quiet; everyone can hear the menace in my voice.

"I never said I was a leader. And did you just call me a coward?"

"You heard me," Sean says loudly.

"How many fears do you have Sean?" I hiss. "Ten? Fifteen? Two whole factions got to hear about one of mine. Want to share a few of yours? Because I'm sure you have at least a dozen to choose from." I glare at him, daring him to look away.

"Screw you, Four."

He throws the first punch. I block it easily, and my right fist slams into his jaw. Sean never gets to land a hit. In minutes, he is knocked out on the black and white tiled floor. I've barely broken a sweat.

I push my hair out of my eyes and look up. The whole group is staring at me. Some of them are grinning, beating their fists on the tables. But not all of them.

I speak to the room, and my voice is quiet and controlled. "I'm not a leader. What I am is a Dauntless who is against mind control and murder. If you need me, you know where to find me."

I walk out and slam the door.

I sit on the floor at the end of the hallway and stare down at my worn out sneakers. I'm not sure what just happened in there. I've never wanted a leadership position with the Dauntless. For two years, I turned one down every time it was offered. I have experience training the initiates, but that doesn't really count – sure, I was molding new Dauntless members, but most of the time it was all about keeping the transfers from killing themselves, or each other. And this year, I didn't exactly succeed.

But for some reason, everyone in that room was listening to me…and it felt right.

I think back to what my mother said to me before we left the factionless, that I should become important. She has a plan, a way to win the war, and taking down the Erudite would destroy the simulations, sweep away the mind control. It would save the Divergent. The Dauntless have no leadership, no strategy to end this, and I could help change that. But I would have to ally with her, and I don't trust her.

I think of Marcus, faction leader, council leader. In public, he is model Abnegation – selfless, measured, thoughtful. But I know better. He loves having power and influence. He thrives on manipulation and lies. Because of him, I will never trust authority figures. If I become a Dauntless leader, I may not trust myself. I'm not sure it's worth that price.

A door opens and shuts, and I look up at the sound of footsteps stopping near me. Christina. She stares at me, her eyes reflecting the red glow of the flickering emergency exit sign behind me.

"Too bad Tris missed the show," she says sarcastically.

I shrug. She looks at the wall.

"She didn't tell you either," she finally says, her voice flat.

"No."

She sits down across from me, her back against the opposite wall, looking down at the floor. She says nothing for a while. I don't think I've ever seen Christina so quiet – even during training with her first fear simulations, she talked her way out of them. She looks up at me.

"You're angry with her," she says.

"Yes."

She nods, and thumps a fist against her leg, a slow, menacing rhythm.

"But not because of what she did," I say. "He was in a simulation, he would have killed her. She didn't have a choice."

"There's always a choice," she says roughly. "You were under the simulation too. You tried to kill her. And you're still alive."

She looks up at me, her eyes glazed with tears, her mouth in a thin line as she tries to hold them in.

"She loves you," she says quietly. "He was her friend, but she's in love with you." She looks back down at the ground.

I stare at her for a minute. Christina has a different kind of courage, the kind that can see straight through people. I haven't given her enough credit. I get up, cross the hall, and sit down next to her.

"She hasn't been able to use a gun since that day," I say. "She can't even touch one without flinching. The guilt is tearing her apart. It's making her do things…" I shake my head. "She's never going to be the same." I put a hand on Christina's shoulder and she looks up at me. "This war…none of us will ever be the same."

A tear spills on to her cheek. "I don't think I can forgive her," she says.

I let my hand drop and look at the opposite wall. I'm not very good at forgiving people either. "You don't have to."

We both jump to our feet as the nearby exit door slams.

I see a flash of blue clothing, and draw my gun on the blonde Erudite woman panting by the door, clutching her side. But Christina lowers her weapon.

I shoot her a look. "You know her?"

"Yeah," she says. "That's Cara. Will's older sister."


	6. Chapter 6

**Can't sleep, so I'll update instead. Wanted to say thanks to all of you who have reviewed and subscribed, you rock. Strangely, I have already written what I think will be the last chapter for this story...now I have to write all the ones in between. Here is one of them. There will be more.**

**I don't own Insurgent and I definitely don't own Four. Which is a shame, because he is such a badass.  
**

* * *

Cara straightens up and turns to Christina. "You need to get out of here," she says, her eyes wild.

"Why? What's happening?" I snap, gun still raised.

"You're under attack!" she yells.

I don't stop to question her. I grab her arm and turn to Christina, who is standing there frozen, mouth open.

"Christina, where's the Candor control room? The security cameras?" She just stares at me, eyes wide. I put my face close to hers and yell. "Are you deaf, Candor? The cameras!"

She comes back to life, a light switching on. Her eyes grow hard.

"Right down the hall."

We run, dragging Cara with us. She gasps out that a group of Erudite and Dauntless traitors have just broken through the main entrance to Candor headquarters. She left the Erudite and ran up the stairway to warn people.

We burst into the control room. It's deserted so much for security. On the monitors, I can see the front entrance. There are bodies everywhere, a sea of Dauntless black. I can't identify any of them. Then I see him - Eric, stepping over people on his way in the shattered doors, and my blood starts to boil.

I take a deep breath. Rage will not help. I turn to Cara, and try to contain my fury.

"What are they trying to do? Kill off two more factions? There won't be anyone left!"

She shakes her head. "They're not dead. They're asleep. They've shot them with transmitters."

I grow still with dread. "A simulation. Which means…"

"They're hunting the Divergent," Cara says flatly.

I have to find Tris. Immediately.

I pick up my gun and check the clip. "Let's go," I bark.

"Wait!" Cara grabs my arm. "They've sealed off all the exits. They'll be going through each floor systematically. But they missed one of the fire escapes. You can sneak up on them from the outside."

I grab her wrist and remove her hand. "How do I know you're not leading us into a trap?"

She frowns, looking down. "I was in the Abnegation sector, the day of the attack. I saw a Dauntless soldier shoot a council member's child in the head. He was under the simulation." She raises her head and looks me in the eye. "I helped design that serum. I always thought of the simulations as educational tools, a way to boost our intelligence, be peaceful, be honest, conquer our fears…not as a method of mass murder." She sets her jaw. "Jeanine has no morals. She has to be stopped. All of this has to stop."

Christina sets her hand on Cara's shoulder. "Then let's go stop it."

We burst into the Gathering Place and tell the Dauntless what's happening. There is no argument, just action. Everyone jumps up and grabs their weapons. Harrison forms a team and they start evacuating rooms, grouping Dauntless and Candor separately as we move towards the fire escape, a rusty ladder that exits from a large window on the side of the main courtroom.

Christina turns to Cara. "How did you even know this was here?" she says.

"Will and I used to memorize blueprints for fun when we were kids," Cara says quietly. Pain crosses Christina's face. Harrison comes up behind me.

"Christina, you know the complex, you lead us down," he says. "When we get outside, we'll form groups and storm the lobby, then go up the stairways. Each team can take a different floor."

She nods grimly. "Let's take those traitors out."

The group roars and pumps their fists in the air. Everyone starts climbing down the fire escape, single file. I stand in line, bouncing on the balls of my feet. It's too slow. I have no idea where Tris is, and there's no guarantee I'll see her when we get down to the first floor. Eric may already have her. The thought makes my stomach clench in fear.

_Four, you idiot. There's a better way to find her_. I push through the crowd and run back to the control room. I sit down at the terminal, and start switching through the cameras. All I see are bodies, until I check a hall camera on the second floor. Five Dauntless traitors stand by the elevator, with two Candor under guard. They're awake. They're Divergent. I switch to another angle. No Tris. Just a female Dauntless traitor in an overlarge jacket, crouched down by a body. _Hold on. _I squint at the camera. _That's no traitor. What the hell is she doing? _Tris moves, turning slowly, and the body, a young Candor girl, rises and runs towards the exit. I close my eyes. She is on a rescue mission. A selfless, reckless, suicidal rescue mission - and I'm sixteen floors away from her. I open my eyes. And I see Eric standing right behind her.

I sprint back to the fire escape, cursing, pushing people out of the way. I step out on the platform and the wind whips my shirt. I am eighteen floors up, but there is no fear, just adrenaline. I practically slide down the rails as my feet fly down the ladder. I don't even notice when I hit the sidewalk.

I run, catching up with the lead group as they charge into the lobby. The Dauntless traitors are standing by the elevators, armed with some sort of dart gun, and we catch them completely unprepared. My vision tunnels, and all I see is the stairway and the soldiers blocking my way. I shoot two of them in the head, picking up one of their guns as I run. Five loyal Dauntless follow me up to the second floor, as others stream by into the other stairwells.

I pause on the landing and crack the door, motioning to the others to be quiet. I see Tris kneeling on the ground next to a young Candor boy, Uriah a few steps away, being held by two Dauntless traitors. Tris's face is bruised and bleeding, and one of the traitors has a gun pressed to her skull. If I shoot him, she could die. I try to think. Eric is pacing in front of the boy, and then he stops. If I take him out, it will distract his soldiers, and I can find a way to get to her. I raise my gun and narrow my eyes to aim. But before I can pull the trigger, Eric shoots the boy in the head. I grit my teeth, cursing myself for not acting sooner. Forget strategy - I have to do something, now. Eric moves on to Tris. She closes her eyes. I'm out of time.

As I kick open the door, Tris lunges upwards, the knife in her hand catching the light just as she buries the weapon in Eric's chest. My mouth drops open, and I freeze. _Tris just stabbed Eric._ Time seems to stop as he crumples to the ground. And then, it's total chaos. Uriah leaps up and punches one of his captors in the face, grabbing his gun. Tris wrenches the knife from Eric's chest with a muffled scream. My team bursts through the doorway, and bullets start flying. I see the soldier behind Tris raise his weapon, and I move, slamming my body into him as my team charges into the hall. I jump up, grab Tris with one arm and push her against the wall.

The traitors start running for the stairs, but I don't want them to escape. I want them to die. "Tell me if anyone's behind me!" I shout, shielding Tris as I fire again and again. I empty one gun and switch to the other. She looks over my shoulder, but her fist curls into my shirt and she groans.

I run out of ammo, but I can tell it's over. I throw my gun to the ground, my hand trembling. Tris has her face buried in my shoulder. I look around Eric is moaning on the floor, the Candor boy's body beside him. Four Dauntless traitors are dead. We're surrounded by unconscious Candor, still under the simulation - sleeping drones. I catch the eye of a trembling Candor woman, one of the Divergent. _Welcome to our world, lady._

I look down at Tris, and I can barely breathe. I almost lost her again. I feel like I am losing her still, and I don't know how to stop her from slipping away. Then I hear Eric moan, and for a moment, I stop caring. She is brutal, brave, Dauntless - and I am proud. She stabbed him, something I've wanted to do since the day he made me throw knives at her head.

I put a hand on her chin and tip her head up, touching her cheek. Her blue eyes are full of unshed tears, but her gaze is fierce. I trail my hand down her neck, over her shoulder, and down her arm until I reach her hand. I curl my hand around the hilt of the knife that she still clutches.

"Tris, you can put the knife down now."

I pull on it, and we both sink to our knees as she places it on the floor. I put my lips to her forehead as she stares at the blood on her hands.


	7. Chapter 7

**Arghhhh, this chapter. Took a while. But it's done, so here you go. As for a certain event near the end, yeah, it didn't happen in the book. But there was a break in the action, so it could have, right? ;-) R&R please. Four still has a little bit left in his Candor journey, so I'll try to update again soon. **

**Yep, when it comes to Insurgent, still don't own nada.  
**

* * *

The night that follows is long and depressing. I lose track of Tris when I insist on following Jack Kang around until I know exactly what he plans to do with Eric. Not only does the bastard survive, he receives medical treatment and a private interrogation session – no public humiliation for him. He shoots an unarmed boy in the head and he gets to keep his dignity. Unbelievable.

Instead of giving Kang a well-deserved punch in the mouth, I end up joining a group of men hauling bodies around the complex – the dead to an unused courtroom, the injured to the Gathering Place. I catch a glimpse of Tris across the room, digging an Erudite needle out of Marlene's arm. She looks like I feel – wrung out, exhausted – with no idea what comes next.

I finally spot her again across the dining hall during breakfast. She's with Caleb. I'm shocked the guards let him in, since Candor isn't exactly open for visitors at the moment. Her face looks troubled. I hang back; I don't want to talk to Tris in front of her brother, not when our last conversation took place next to Eric's bleeding body. Eventually she catches my eye, leaves Caleb, and walks towards me.

She stops a few feet away, looking at me for a moment as the crowds swirl around us with their food trays. I close the distance between us.

"You okay?"

"I might throw up if I have to answer that one more time," she says tiredly. "I don't have a bullet in my head, do I? So I'm good."

It's something a Dauntless would say. But it doesn't sound like Tris.

"Your jaw is so swollen you look like you have a wad of food in your cheek, and you just stabbed Eric," I retort. "I'm not allowed to ask if you're okay?"

She puts her hands to her temples and rubs them.

"Yeah. I'm okay."

I move to hug her, but I stop. I'm not really sure where we stand. Then her face sags, and she bites her swollen lip, and I can't stay away. I put my arm around her and pull her body to mine, and it's like coming home. She relaxes into me, burying her face in my neck. For a few minutes, we just listen to each other breathe.

"I'm sorry it took me so long to come get you," I whisper.

She touches my back and sighs, pulling back. "I need to talk to you. Can we go somewhere quiet?"

Whatever she needs to talk to me about, it isn't good. I nod, and we walk towards the door. We pass a table full of former fence guards – Sean and his buddies. He looks down at the table, avoiding my eyes. Good. At least I solved that problem. But then behind me, I hear one of his friends call my name. My real name.

"Oh, look! It's _Tobias Eaton_!"

I pause in the doorway. I guess beating up their ringleader wasn't enough.

Another one yells, "I saw your daddy here earlier, Eaton! Are you gonna go hide?"

I freeze. Marcus is_ alive_?

I can't think.

"Yeah, are you gonna hide, coward?" They are laughing, but I barely hear them. I curl my hands into fists. My vision starts to tunnel, and my muscles tense. Whoever said that is going to really regret it.

Tris grabs my arm and practically drags me out of the cafeteria. She pulls me over to the elevator, looking up at me with concern.

"I was going to tell you – he came with Caleb," she says, her voice coming from far away, like we're back in a simulation. "He and Peter escaped Amity –"

"What were you waiting for then?" I'm not angry at Tris, just more struggling to be…present, to regain my control. I concentrate on the feel of her fingers on my arm.

"It's not the kind of news you deliver in a cafeteria," she says.

No. No it isn't. "Fair enough."

Tris says nothing, she just squeezes my arm gently. We step in the elevator, and all I can do is stare at the wall.

So my father managed to stay alive. I shouldn't be surprised – if there's one thing all three Eatons have in common, it's a talent for survival. Now he's here, and I'm going to have to deal with him. It's like my fear landscape is coming to life – and my whole faction is going to watch it happen.

Maybe that's the key – stop avoiding Marcus and come up with a strategy to face the real thing instead of the simulation. What's strange is that I don't feel as afraid, not now that every day seems to bring some new nightmare. Forget locked closets and childhood beatings. Just in the past two days I've been interrogated, shot at, and ridiculed. Eric nearly killed Tris right in front of me. Now all I really care about is keeping the girl I love alive.

If Marcus gets in the way of that, I will crush him.

* * *

We step out onto the eighteenth floor, and walk into the interrogation room, or as I now think of it, the torture chamber. Not my first choice, but at least it's quiet. A single wooden chair still sits in the circle of light.

Tris sits down on a bench, and I drag the chair over to her.

"Didn't there used to be two of these?" I ask, desperate to talk about anything other than my father.

"Yeah," Tris says. "I…uh..it got thrown out the window."

I think I just learned what Tris was up to the night after our interrogation.

"Strange," I say, and try not to smile. "So what did you want to talk about? Or was that about Marcus?"

"No, that wasn't it. Are you…all right?" she says, peering at me. There's no pity, but there is worry. She thinks I'm about to explode. She's probably right.

I don't look up. "I don't have a bullet in my head, do I? So I'm fine. I'd like to talk about something else."

"I want to talk about simulations," she says.

So we do. We talk about the factionless, the serums, the Divergent – it feels good to be using our brains for a while instead of our fists. Until we start to realize the implications of our conclusions.

"Have you seen this?" Tris says, pulling the bandage off her arm.

"Not up close," I say.

She reveals the puncture wound, surrounded by ribbons of blue dye, snaking their way into her shoulder just below her Abnegation tattoo. I reach out and brush my fingertips along her dyed skin. I hate that Erudite has left a mark on her. She pulls a needle out of her pocket.

"When they attacked, they weren't trying to kill us. They were shooting us with these," she says.

I take it from her and examine it.

"This is probably hollow. It must have contained whatever that blue stuff in your arm is. What happened after you were shot?"

"They tossed these gas-spewing cylinders into the room, and everyone went unconscious. That is, everyone but Uriah and me and the other Divergent."

She eyeballs me. "Did you know that Uriah was Divergent?"

"Of course. I ran his simulations too," I say.

"And you never told me?"

She sounds hurt. I wish I could have told her, so she would have felt less alone. But she of all people has to understand why I couldn't do that.

"Privileged information. Dangerous information." My eyes catch hers.

"You saved our lives, you know," she says softly. "Eric was trying to hunt us down."

I would do it again. Where she goes, I go. "I think we're past keeping track of who has saved whose life," I say. I can't look away from her. Because with the way she's been acting, we both know it will happen again.

We talk a little more, but she's already figured it out. She knows exactly why the Erudite attacked, and why they were hunting the Divergent.

"They've developed a long-lasting transmitter," she says flatly.

I nod, and don't look away.

"So now we're all wired for multiple simulations. As many as Jeanine wants, maybe."

I nod again, and her face is pale.

"This is really bad, Tobias."

* * *

We walk out of the room towards the elevators, and suddenly, I can't keep it in any longer. We've figured out exactly how deadly the Erudite now are. But if Tris keeps throwing herself into danger without strategy – if she keeps acting like a Dauntless – she will go up against them and lose.

I stop, and ask her a question I already know the answer to.

"So you attacked Eric. Was that during the invasion? Or when you were by the elevators?"

"By the elevators," she says.

I take a deep breath, meet her eyes, and let her have it. "One thing I don't understand. You were downstairs. You could have just run away. But instead, you decided to dive into a crowd of armed Dauntless all by yourself. And I'm willing to bet you weren't carrying a gun."

Her face grows stubborn.

"Is that true?" I demand.

"What makes you think I didn't have a gun?" she frowns, looking down.

Please. Even Caleb is a better shot than her right now.

"You haven't been able to touch a gun since the attack. I understand why, with the whole Will thing, but…"

She cuts me off. "That has nothing to do with it."

I don't believe her, not for one second.

"I did what I had to do," she says, like the fate of the world is on her shoulders.

"Yeah. But now you should be done," I say quietly, moving in front of her. She folds her arms and stares at me sullenly. "You should have stayed with the Amity. You should have stayed far away from all of this."

I know what I'm saying is pissing her off. She is too engaged, too brave, to back away from a fight. But what's the point if she isn't fighting smart?

"No, I shouldn't have," she seethes. "You think you know what's best for me? You have no idea. I was going crazy with the Amity. Here I finally feel…sane again."

"Which is odd, considering you are acting like a psychopath," I say. "It's not brave, choosing the position you were in yesterday. It's beyond stupid – it's suicidal. Don't you have any regard for your own life?"

"Of course I do!" she yells. "I was trying to do something useful!"

I stare at her, my heart sinking, because I finally get where her head is. I get it because I've been there. I was there for years, until I met Tris. I've lived it - the grief, the fear, the anger, the lashing out at a fucked up world that keeps kicking you when you're down - the fighting until you're exhausted, until you secretly hope one day you won't get back up again. She's running on pain, and she's letting the Dauntless fire in her consume everything else.

I can't watch her destroy herself.

"You're more than Dauntless," I say. "But if you want to be just like them, hurling yourself into ridiculous situations for no reason and retaliating against your enemies without any regard for what's ethical, go right ahead. I thought you were better than that, but maybe I was wrong."

I wanted those words to hurt her, to wake her up – but she's not in the mood to listen. "You shouldn't insult the Dauntless," she says, fists clenched. "They took you in when you had nowhere else to go. Trusted you with a good job. Gave you all your friends."

I scowl. The Dauntless didn't "take me in." I wasn't a stray. I made my choice, and I earned my place there, just like she did. And to do it, I took _them_ in – their strength, their ability to act in the face of fear. But that's not all I took in. Dauntless brutality has become part of me too, a part of me that I try to contain.

Maybe I shouldn't try so hard. If I had stayed in Abnegation, I'd be dead by now. And so would she.

"Tris," I say. She doesn't look at me. I resist the urge to grab her chin and force her eyes up to mine.

I step closer to her.

"_Tris,_" I say, more insistent. She finally raises her head and looks me in the eye. Her gaze is stubborn, proud – a reflection of mine. Sometimes, I think we have too much in common.

"I just don't want to lose you," I say softly. She stares at me for a few seconds, then looks away, her expression distant. We stand there in silence for a while, inches from each other.

"I have to meet Caleb," she finally mumbles. She turns to go, and I grab her hand. She did this to me once in a dark Dauntless hallway, and it was all electricity and anticipation. This time it's all desperation. I shouldn't touch her at all - touching her means admitting defeat.

For once, I don't care.

For a moment, neither of us breathe. And then suddenly, we are kissing, the way we should have kissed after she nearly died in that hallway, the way we kissed on the train to Amity, surrounded by our enemies. It isn't gentle, and it isn't comforting. My lips are rough and demanding; her fingers dig into my back, her eyes shut tight, blocking out the world. This isn't kissing to grow closer. This is using love as a weapon to keep the darkness away.

A door slams down the hall, and we spring apart, breathing heavily. Tris looks at me briefly, her eyes wild, her body shaking. Losing control is one of her worst fears. Losing her is one of mine. She shoots me one more glance, and it's full of longing. Then she opens the door to the stairway, and she's gone.

I walk to the elevators, my heart still pounding. There's only one way to help Tris heal, to keep her safe, to keep us all safe. I need to find a way to stop Jeanine Matthews. It's time to talk to the person who can help make that happen.


	8. Chapter 8

The smell is the first sign that I'm entering my mother's domain. It hits me a few blocks after I jump off the train, a potent mix of rotting food, wet newspaper, and stale urine. The narrow alley leading to the old warehouse is piled high with garbage, much more than before – cardboard boxes, old tires, and broken furniture. There's too much of it to be an accidental rubbish dump. These are barricades. The factionless are preparing for war.

I move towards the steel door we entered through last time, and a body materializes from the trash.

"Tobias," Edward says sardonically, his one eye on mine, gun at the ready.

"Edward."

"Come to join us? Or did the Dauntless kick you out?" he mocks.

I roll my eyes at him. I don't have patience for this right now. "You know why I'm here."

"Quality family time?" I shoot him a look, and he finally drops the act. "Come on, I'll take you to her."

He wrenches open the door, and leads me back through the warehouse floor. Daylight bleeds through the grimy windows, casting patches of light along the brick walls. There are more people here this time, and they seem better provisioned. I see stacks of cans, and I catch some flashes of grey among their clothes. I wonder if they've looted the abandoned Abnegation sector for supplies.

Their eyes follow me as we duck down a dark hallway and into the machine room where Evelyn holds court. She looks up, sees me, and jerks her head towards Edward. He shoots me one last sarcastic smirk before he disappears.

"Tobias!" My mother rises to greet me with a smile I don't return.

"Evelyn."

"Your hair is longer," she says softly, raising her hand as if to touch it. When she sees the look on my face, she changes her mind. She strides over to a table and starts rearranging papers. "Where's your little girlfriend?" she asks lightly.

"Her name is Tris. And stop being condescending," I snap.

She holds her hands up in a gesture of surrender. "Fine. I know you didn't come here for small talk."

I nod. She leans back against the table and looks at me shrewdly. "So you've finally realized that we're your only option."

"That's one way of putting it."

She lets out a short bark of laughter. "I'm guessing the Dauntless don't agree with you."

"They're not convinced. But we won't be able to stay at Candor much longer."

"Desperate measures for desperate times, hmm?" Her smile doesn't reach her eyes. "I heard about the attack. Glad to see you're all right."

I shrug. "I'm alive."

"What about Tris?" Her eyes are wide, concerned, and insincere.

I stare at her coldly. She needs to view Tris with more respect. "She stabbed a traitor leader in the chest when he had a gun to her head. She's alive too."

Evelyn purses her lips and says nothing.

"They shot nearly everyone with simulation transmitters. We think Jeanine has developed a long-lasting transmitter that can be used multiple times," I say.

My mother looks into my eyes. "Except with the Divergent," she says softly.

I wonder for a moment if she herself is Divergent. Being factionless certainly agrees with her. Maybe that's where I got it from. Better her than Marcus. I look away, over towards the charts of safe houses on the walls. "I would guess that you're next."

She stands up and walks over to them. "I think the Erudite won't find us an easy target. Though we should probably move some people around." She turns to look at me. "But why should we fight with the Dauntless? Jeanine has just rendered most of you useless."

"Not all of us were shot, about seventy of us are in the clear. Most of those are pretty strong fighters," I say. She wants to make me beg, to plead for her to help us, and I'm not going to. "It will take the Erudite a while to come up with a logical attack plan for the factionless. I think it's time for a preemptive strike."

"Together," she says. It's not a question.

"Unless you want to be mind-controlled drones," I smirk at her.

"I think not. " She stares at me, her eyes unreadable. "There will be some conditions."

"Which are?" I fold my arms and wait.

"It's pointless to negotiate unless you have the authority to accept them," she says sharply. "Are you a Dauntless leader?"

"No."

"Do you want to be?"

"Not particularly."

She walks closer to me and looks at me, her dark eyes narrowed. "There's still a lot of Abnegation in you. But ask yourself, would anyone else be better?" she asks quietly. "That is, anyone who isn't wired for a simulation?"

I pause, thinking of the members we have left. Most of the older Dauntless who escaped the needles are courageous and experienced, but they're some of the biggest hotheads in the faction. Uriah is strong, but he's too impulsive. Christina is more of a follower than a leader. Harrison caught a needle in the lobby during the counterattack. There's only one other person I can think of, and that's Tris. She's intelligent, and brave, and selfless. The Dauntless respect her. The simulations can't touch her. She could be a good leader, probably better than me. But not right now. A self-destructive person shouldn't lead a faction anywhere.

I shake my head reluctantly. My mother gives me a satisfied smile. I doubt she would be looking at me that way if I had named Tris. I rub the back of my neck and sigh.

"I think they would listen to me…" I pause. "But there's been a complication."

She raises an eyebrow. "Oh? What's that?"

"Marcus. He showed up at Candor headquarters this morning."

Her eyes flash angrily, and she slams her hand down on the table. "Why should anything that man does matter anymore?"

I look down at my hands. "They think I'm afraid of him."

"Are you?"

I look at her eyes, cold dark pools, and I say nothing. She doesn't deserve to know.

She rubs her forehead, and her face sags, a flicker of sadness. "I know you went through hell with him. So did I. But it's my fault. I should have taken you with me."

I think of Tris's mom, Natalie. She was willing to die for her daughter. When Tris was in danger, Natalie took a bullet. My mother ran away. So much for selflessness. Maybe she was just weak. Maybe she was just being human. I still can't forgive her.

"It's done, so there's no point in talking about it," I say quietly, rubbing a scar on my hand.

She clasps her hands together, her face neutral again. "If you want to convince the Dauntless to do this, you're going to have to get Marcus out of the way. And you're going to have to do it publicly."

I scowl at her – I'm not an idiot. "You think I don't know that?"

She looks at me for a minute and then nods. She walks over to the table, reaches under a pile of paper, and pulls out a small, rough wooden box.

"Do me a favor," she says, walking over and placing it in my hands. "When you – talk – to him, give him something from me."

I raise an eyebrow, and open the box. I pull out a dull silver chain. Dangling at the end is a small circle of tarnished metal – her Abnegation wedding ring.

"I think it's time I gave it back," she says, her smile cold. This isn't the woman who abandoned me nine years ago. That woman was quiet and submissive, always bending to my father's will. Now my mother is strong, emotionless, and ruthless. She reminds me of Max. And now she, too, wants to give me a job.

I should stay far away from her, from power, from responsibility. But the last time I refused a leadership role, we got Eric, and mind control, and lies. I should have said yes. I probably couldn't have stopped the war, but there were things I could have prevented, and I didn't have the courage to try.

This time, I'll step up. But I'm going to do it my way.

* * *

**More Four time to come...I'm having fun filling in the blanks. Thank you so much for all of your reviews and comments, you guys are great.**


	9. Chapter 9

Dark clouds churn above as I hurl myself from the train near Candor headquarters. I spent a little too long in the garbage kingdom – I'll have to hustle to get to that meeting on time. The Dauntless guards at the demolished entrance wave me in without a word this time. I suppose that's progress.

I break into a jog once I hit the empty marble halls. I can feel my body begging for sleep; it's been at least two days since I've even looked at a bed. But rest will have to wait. I need to keep my wits about me for another hour at least.

Fortunately, the Dauntless aren't known for their punctuality. I slip unnoticed into the meeting room behind a group of people in black, and spot Tris just ahead of me, her hair wet, eyes alert. I'm glad she isn't dead on her feet like I am.

"Quiet down, everyone!" Jack Kang raises his hands and everyone falls silent. People must be worried - it usually takes a lot more yelling to get a bunch of Dauntless to shut up.

"I know many of you are confused and shaken by what happened yesterday. I have heard many reports from a variety of perspectives…"

He got an earful of my perspective on Eric, that's for sure. Not that he listened.

"…and have gotten a sense for what is straightforward and what requires more investigation. What seems to me to require more investigation," Jack says, "is the Divergent."

How much investigation does the guy need? A traitor army invaded his headquarters and put people to sleep to hunt the Divergent down. If Tris hadn't stabbed Eric, he would have killed them.

"If you are one of the Divergent, please step forward so that we can hear from you," he calls out.

I start moving immediately. I have nothing more to hide, and plenty to say. I walk towards the center of the room, the crowd parting like I'm carrying the plague. I stop in front of him, and Tris steps up beside me. Uriah didn't come with her; I'm a little shocked he'd be that gutless. I turn my head to see who else had the courage to come forward. There are a few Candor, including the girl I saw Tris help on the security cameras. Then I see one last person step out from the crowd, wearing Abnegation gray.

My father.

I snap my head back around so quickly my neck hurts. I focus my gaze on Jack and fight to keep my face blank. Being Divergent is part of me, an essential part of my identity – and it apparently came from my father. It's one more tie binding me to him, and this bond I'll never be able to break.

I feel sick.

Tris stirs beside me, and I want to pull her to me and hold on tight, borrowing her strength as I did high above the city in my fear landscape. But nothing would make me look more weak, and I need to convince these people I am strong.

Marcus starts talking, using the soothing, competent tone he always uses when speaking in public. He never used it at home. The whispering crowd quiets down a little. He must have said something comforting - I wouldn't know. I focus on breathing and tune him out. I can't let his presence here affect me. The stakes are too high.

"It seems clear to me," Jack says to him, "that we were attacked so that the Erudite could find the Divergent. Do you know why that is?"

"No, I do not," Marcus says smoothly. I frown - something in his voice tells me he's lying. "Perhaps their intention was merely to identify us. It seems like useful information to have, if they intend to use their simulations again."

_Wrong. _I steel my jaw and open my mouth to contradict him for the first time in my life. But Tris beats me to it.

"That was _not_ their intention," she says hotly. "They wanted to kill us. They've been killing us since before any of this happened."

She _is_ lending me her strength, even if she doesn't know it. I feel a fierce swell of pride as the room falls silent, something even Marcus couldn't manage. In the quiet, a hard rain starts to fall.

"That sounds very much like a conspiracy theory," Jack says sanctimoniously. "What reason would the Erudite have to kill you?"

I step in. "Obviously we don't know, but there are nearly a dozen mysterious deaths recorded among the Dauntless from the past six years, and there is a correlation between those people and irregular aptitude test results or initiation simulation results," I say, raising my voice over the storm.

My own instructor Amar was one of them. It doesn't matter what the motive is - the deaths are real. Even the Candor can see that. But Jack just shakes his head. "While that is intriguing, correlation does not constitute evidence."

I clench my fists. _Intriguing?_

"A Dauntless leader shot a Candor child in the _head_," Tris snaps. "Did you get a report of _that_? Did it seem 'worthy of investigation'?" Her voice drips with sarcasm; she is as angry as I am.

"In fact I did," Jack replies calmly. "And shooting a child in cold blood is a terrible crime that cannot go unpunished. Fortunately, we have the perpetrator in custody and will be able to put him on trial. However, we must keep in mind that the Dauntless soldiers did not give any evidence of wanting to harm the majority of us, or they would have killed us while we were unconscious."

Clearly, Jack Kang is in complete denial. And judging from the angry murmuring of the Dauntless standing behind me, they agree with me.

"Their peaceful invasion suggests to me that it may be possible to negotiate a peace treaty with the Erudite and the other Dauntless," he continues. "So I will arrange a meeting with Jeanine Matthews to discuss that possibility as soon as possible."

_Peaceful_? Is he kidding? Next to me, Tris folds her arms and glowers at him.

"Their invasion wasn't _peaceful_," she snarls.

I can't help myself – I smile. This is the Tris I fell in love with, the girl whose presence demands attention. She is placing herself in front of the target, in Kang's line of fire, because she knows it's the right thing to do – and because she knows he has nothing to hit her with. If he underestimates her, he's an idiot.

"Just because they didn't shoot you all in the head doesn't mean their intentions were somehow honorable. Why do you think they came here? Just to run through your hallways, knock you unconscious, and leave?"

"I assume they came here for people like you," he responds primly. "And while I am concerned for your safety, I don't think we can attack them just because they wanted to kill a fraction of our population."

"Killing you is not the worst thing they can do to you," Tris says, her voice carrying to the far corners of the room. "Controlling you is."

Out of the corner of my eye, I see the Dauntless around us nodding their heads. They know what it's like to be manipulated in a simulation. The Candor don't - yet.

"Oh? And how will they manage that?" Kang smiles at her, as if talking to a child. Yep, he's now officially an idiot. So I spell it out for him.

"They shot you with needles," I say. "Needles full of simulation transmitters. Simulations control you. That's how."

He turns to me. "We know how simulations work. The transmitter is not a permanent implant. If they intended to control us, they would have done it right away."

I notice that he's wearing a long sleeved white dress shirt. I wonder if that's to cover up the _permanent_ blue dye implanted in his arm.

Tris starts to protest, but he interrupts her.

"I know you have been under a lot of stress, Tris," he says quietly. Condescendingly. "You have done a great service to your faction and to Abnegation. But I think your traumatic experience may have compromised your ability to be completely objective. I can't launch an attack based on a little girl's speculations."

_Little girl?_ I've never wanted to punch him more, including when he informed me that Eric would get a private interrogation. I sneak a glance at Tris, and she is frozen in place, her cheeks flushed, eyes blazing. She looks like she is about to launch herself at the Candor leader's throat.

"You don't make our decisions for us, Kang," I say loudly, and the Dauntless start shouting with me. "You are not the leader of our faction!"

Kang raises his eyebrows. "That is true. If you want to, you can feel free to storm the Erudite compound by yourselves. But you will do so without our support, and may I remind you, you are greatly outnumbered and unprepared."

A coward on a power trip is not a pretty sight. But no one says anything, because for now, he's right. Though if it's up to me, he won't be right for long.

"I thought so," Kang says smugly. "Very well. I will contact Jeanine Matthews, and see if we can negotiate a peace. Any objections?"

Tris glances at me, and we turn our backs to Kang and walk out of the room.

She marches over to the elevator and punches the down button, still fuming. The doors open, and we walk in and close the door before anyone can follow us. Tris starts to pace, two steps forward, two steps back, mumbling, furious.

"Little girl…little girl. How could anyone be so _stupid_!"

I press the emergency stop button and the car grinds to a sudden, screeching halt. She stops in mid-rant, startled, and turns to look at me.

"You're not a _little_ anything," I say seriously. Then I slowly grin at her.

She stares at me a moment, and then remembers. She leans back into the corner of the elevator and laughs, a momentary truce.

"Yeah, I'd say Jack Kang is definitely worse than Caleb," she says with a small smile.

"Definitely. What an idiot."

"A peace agreement, with a leader who had his entire faction shot with transmitters. And he doesn't think this is about control?" she says indignantly, the anger back – but it's thoughtful anger. Divergent anger.

I take a step towards her. I can't stop myself – it's so good to see her awake again.

"That's because he's losing _his_ control. And you're scaring him."

She nods, staring at me. Her eyes are magnets, drawing me in.

"Kang can't control you," I say softly. She stands up straighter, pushing her back into the corner.

"Jeanine can't control you." I step closer. The elevator alarm bell starts to ring.

"I don't control you," I whisper next to her lips. Her eyes close.

I kiss her slowly, and only our lips touch.

I pull back a little, and wait until she opens her eyes. They've turned stormy gray, like the sky outside.

"The only person who controls you is you, Tris. Don't lose yourself." I say, holding her gaze, as I reach behind me to switch the elevator back on. I look at her the entire way down to the second floor.

When the doors open, I let my breath out in a sigh, the spell broken. I don't like elevators any more than closets. We step out, and she turns to me. Her eyes are blue again, clear and piercing. If I let her, she will see straight through me.

"Did you know? About Marcus?" she asks quietly.

I look down, and suddenly, I'm ready to tell her everything – my meeting with my mother, how I'm feeling forced into being a leader, how much I hate having even more in common with my father. It's time to close the distance between us. But I don't know how to begin.

The stairway door crashes open, and Uriah, Lynn, and Marlene burst into the hall. They spot us, and they all start talking at once.

"Tris, that was crazy! I can't believe he called you little," Marlene shouts.

"I thought Four was going to punch Kang in the mouth, " Uriah says, avoiding my eyes.

"You should have stabbed him just like Eric," grumbles Lynn.

"Yeah, well…" Tris says. She pauses, and flicks her eyes up to mine for a second. We both know the truce is over, the moment is gone. I just hope I got through to her.

She turns to her friends and smiles – a tight lipped Abnegation smile. "You know what I need after that? A big slice of chocolate cake."

"In this dump? Good luck with that," I hear Lynn say as they move towards the cafeteria. I don't follow them. All I want to do is find a bed and sleep.

* * *

I wake hours later to yelling and cheering. I sit up and rub the sleep from my eyes as a band of Dauntless run by me with a bottle and a bunch of shot glasses. Oh great, they've found out where the Candor keep their liquor, and Candor booze is ten times more powerful than ours. They claim it keeps them honest.

"Drink, drink, drink!" I hear chanting as they join a big group in the center of the room. I sigh and stand up to leave; I'm not in the mood for mayhem. But then I see Uriah vault onto a top bunk in the center of the room. Is Tris over there? I've never even seen her touch alcohol. He raises a glass.

"To dirty traitors!" he bellows, tipping the clear liquor down his throat.

"Yeah, dirty traitors!" the crowd yells, chanting for him to drink more. Then I realize not all of them are shouting "drink." Some of them are shouting "Zeke."

My face breaks into a grin as I see Uriah pull my best friend up beside him. I _knew_ it, I knew he couldn't have joined the other side; he hates Eric even more than I do. I walk over as they stage dive off the bed into the crowd. Everyone collapses in a heap, laughing. Uriah sees me and lurches to his feet.

"Hey Four, Zeke wasn't a dirty traitor after all. He was a _secret agent_," he slurs dramatically.

I put on my best instructor face and glower at both of them. "And who's going to believe _that_ story?" I say.

Uriah opens his mouth to protest, but Zeke just rolls his eyes at me. He knows my game too well. "Already had the serum, my man. Truthy and delicious! Much better than this horseshit." He tips a shot back, and pours one for me. I grin and drink it down in one, feeling the burn all the way down my throat. Then I tackle him, putting him in a headlock, and Zeke starts coughing.

"You Erudite-loving jackass…"

"Okay, okay, next time I'll tell you about all of my evil plans," he says, grinning maniacally. I let him up and clap him on the back. It feels good to laugh again.

The party starts raging – or as much as it can rage with only a couple bottles of liquor and twenty Dauntless to drink them. In ten minutes, the booze is gone, and Zeke is making out with Shauna in the middle of the room. Uriah breaks it up, telling everyone to move up to the Gathering Place for a proper "you're not a dirty traitor" celebration.

"Come on Zeke, you can get laid later," he yells, pulling Shauna with him as the crowd troops out. Zeke starts to follow, but I grab his arm.

"So what were you doing in Erudite anyway?" I ask.

"Gathering information, mostly. But I helped a lot of defectors to escape. That's why there are so many here," he says.

"Like Will's sister?"

"Cara. Yeah. I got her into the research group that came with the invasion force over to Candor. When Jeanine found out she left and warned you guys, I knew my gig was just about up…though it was Tori that gave us away."

"Tori's alive?" I thought she had been killed in the original simulation attack. My mother, Marcus, now Tori - people are rising up from the dead all over the place. I'm much happier about this resurrection though.

"Yeah, we escaped together," Zeke says. "But she got shot in the leg. She's in the infirmary."

* * *

I push open the door to the courtroom the Candor have turned into a makeshift hospital. The beds are nearly full, mostly Candor who didn't have the sense to stay out of the way during the counterattack. I see Tori lying halfway down the row of beds, leg elevated, face screwed up in pain. There are fresh streaks of gray in her dark hair. I walk up and stand beside her bed.

"Hey Four," she croaks.

"Hey Tori. I told you those flying tattoo needles would never work," I shake my head and grin.

She makes a face at me. "I'll be fine in a minute. They just shot me up with something pretty powerful."

"Don't you think this is a pretty extreme way to get high?"

She laughs, then her face grows serious. "How are you doing, Four? I heard about the truth serum."

Other than Tris, Tori was one of the few in the Dauntless compound who knew where I came from. I never told her the full story about my father, but she knew I had a lot to hide. I suppose when you want all five faction symbols tattooed on your body, it's pretty obvious that you're not a typical Dauntless member.

"Yeah, spilling all my secrets. It was a blast." I pull up a chair and sit down next to her. Her face starts to relax as the pain medicine kicks in.

"Candor assholes," she says loudly. The man in the next bed shoots her a dirty look.

"Tori, what were you doing at Erudite headquarters?" I say quietly.

She raises her head and stares at me. "Revenge," she says flatly. "My twin brother was Divergent. The Dauntless leadership tossed him into the chasm before he passed initiation."

I already know about Tori's brother. When I trained to be an instructor, Eric held him up as an example of what to look out for when I ran simulations, how to identify the Divergent. He neglected to mention that they murder them. I neglected to mention that Amar had already given me the same tips two years before, to protect me from the same fate…even though he ultimately couldn't protect himself.

Suddenly my head is filled with images of Amar's crumpled body by the train tracks, a pale, bloated Tris being fished from the chasm – nightmares I had nearly every night after I ran her second simulation. I close my eyes and will myself back to the conversation.

"You were after Jeanine?" I ask, though it's not really a question.

"Yeah." She looks down at the river tattoo on her arm. "I wish I could say I had more noble motives, like ending the war, or justice for the Abnegation. But, really, I just want her to die for what they did to Georgie."

"I think most of us would have been happy if you had succeeded," I say with a twisted grin.

"Yeah, well, I got shot instead," she says with a grimace. But then she looks up, her expression fierce. "But it was worth it. I know how to get to her…if I can ever find a way back in."

I look at her. Revenge is selfish. So is creating an army to keep your girlfriend alive. The Abnegation symbol burns on my back. But I am no longer Abnegation.

"Tori, I think I have a way to get us there."

She narrows her eyes and smiles.

* * *

**A/N: So this has really merged into a combo of POV and extra stuff, hasn't it? But I couldn't resist, I wanted to write a bit more romance and humor through here, and it's my fic, so I did. Hope you liked it, there will be a bit more to come, like the Marcus showdown! Reviews appreciated.**

**A special shout out to trobiasforever for the great feedback, as well as franceschap and DauntlessDreamer and many others. All of you are helping to keep this going.  
**

**And PS - I do not own Divergent or Insurgent or Tris or Four or...yeah. Don't own it.  
**


	10. Chapter 10

**I'm back! SORRY for taking so long to update. Got busy, then started writing another story (Inked) and neglected this one. I won't take so long next time. I hope you'll stick with me...thanks as always for your reviews!**

**Annnnnddddd...I still don't own Insurgent.  
**

* * *

God, sometimes I wish the Candor would learn how to just shut the hell up.

For the past hour, I've been watching a bunch of them debate how to proceed with the "peace" process. Though we were asked here to give input on security, none of the Dauntless in the room can get a word in edgewise. All we can do is look at each other and roll our eyes.

Dauntless gets more transfers from Candor than any other faction – honesty does take a certain kind of bravery. But once they join Dauntless, they learn about strategy and subterfuge…something Jack Kang clearly doesn't understand, given the brilliant plan he's outlining now.

"Jeanine is going to send a representative to talk with me in a neutral location, halfway between Erudite and Candor. Apparently that person will have the authority to negotiate terms."

He is way too trusting. It's the kind of idiocy that makes me lose my temper.

"You're giving up the one strategic advantage you have – getting her out in the open!" I yell at him, my voice rising above the others. "You think because you'll deal with her in a straightforward manner, that she'll return the favor? Wake up, Jack! If Jeanine doesn't like what you have to say, she'll just activate the transmitter in your arm….or get her lackey to shoot you!"

The room gets quiet. I guess I finally figured out how to get Candor to stop talking – threaten them with violent deaths.

Jack walks over to me. "What exactly qualifies you to speculate on Jeanine's thought process, Mr. Eaton?" he says, a smile playing around the edge of his mouth.

I absolutely _hate_ that this man is calling me by my father's name. "Because I've seen it in action," I say with as much contempt as I can muster. "That's exactly what she tried to do to Tris…and me."

"You are a Divergent teenager. I am a faction leader. I think she'll treat me with more respect," he says.

"You mean the same kind of respect she showed the Abnegation leaders? You know, when she programmed the Dauntless soldiers to shoot them in the head?"

The Dauntless behind me start pounding their fists on tables and chairs in agreement. Jack's face turns beet red.

"I don't recall asking _you_ for advice," he says. "I think it's time for you to leave."

I stare him down until he looks away. Bud, Tori's tattoo partner, puts his hand on my shoulder to diffuse the tension.

"Just go, Four," he mutters. "We'll make sure to send Dauntless guards with him. We'll tell everyone what they say." I nod tightly and walk out the door.

I just got thrown out of a Candor planning meeting…for being honest. I don't know if I can stomach the irony.

I sit for a minute in the empty hallway; I need to calm down. I have to go tell Tris and the others what's happening, and they're going to want to get in on the action. They'll do something crazy and impulsive, and Tris will throw herself in the thick of it. I can't protect her from her worst enemy – herself.

I sigh, get up, and start walking.

I step into the Gathering Place and see Tris, Zeke, Uriah, Lynn, Marlene, and Shauna sitting at the far end. When I drop into a seat beside Tris, they all look up, eager for news.

"Kang is going to meet with a representative of Jeanine Matthews at seven in the morning," I tell them.

"A representative?" Zeke says. "She's not going herself?"

No, that would take guts, something Jeanine is seriously lacking.

"Yeah, and stand out in the open where a bunch of angry people with guns can take aim?" Uriah says. "I'd like to see her try. No, really, I would."

"Is Kang the Brilliant taking a Dauntless escort, at least?" Lynn says.

"Yes. Some of the older members volunteered. Bud said he would keep his ears open and report back." Tris frowns at me. I can see the wheels turning in her head; she is wondering why I've gotten involved. I'm starting to wonder that myself. I look down at the table, avoiding her gaze.

"So I guess the real question is," says Zeke, folding his hands on the table like he's in class, "if you were Erudite, what would _you _say at this meeting?"

Everyone turns to look at Tris.

"What?" she says, eyes wary.

"You're Divergent," Zeke says, waggling his eyebrows up and down.

"So is Tobias."

"Yeah, but he doesn't have aptitude for Erudite." Thanks Zeke. Now I know what you think of my brainpower. Never mind that he's probably right – Tris is more Erudite than I'll ever be.

"And how do you know I do?" Tris says. Zeke was in Erudite for a while; she's worried that they have information on her. She's right to be concerned, though I think Zeke is just guessing. He can be pretty perceptive when he's not clowning around.

Zeke shrugs. "Seems likely. Doesn't it seem likely?"

Uriah and Lynn nod mutely. I try not to smile.

"You all have functional brains, last time I checked," Tris snaps. "You can think like the Erudite, too."

That's the problem with the factions. We spend so much time throwing ourselves down the path we've chosen, we give up on everything else. That's why I get so frustrated with Tris when she acts so…Dauntless. She is capable of so much more.

Maybe we all are.

Marlene starts joking about Divergent magic, and I tune her out. But then I hear Shauna's voice for the first time, and I look up.

"Don't _Shauna_ me!" she says to Zeke. "Don't you think someone with the aptitude for multiple factions might have a loyalty problem? If she's got aptitude for Erudite, how can we be sure she's not _working_ for Erudite?"

"Don't be ridiculous," I say to her. Her prejudice is making her irrational.

"I'm not being ridiculous! I know I belong in Dauntless because everything I did in that aptitude test told me so. I'm loyal to my faction for that reason – because there's nowhere else I could possibly be. But her?" Shauna looks at Tris, and then she turns towards me. "And you? I have no idea who you're loyal to. And I'm not going to pretend that everything's okay."

She storms out of the room. So I guess two years of friendship mean nothing. All those nights helping her learn to fight, they don't count unless I'm one of the herd.

Screw that, and screw her. I scowl at the table.

Tris is talking about Jack again, so I start paying attention.

"I think that Jeanine Matthews will manipulate him. And that he will do anything to protect his faction, even if it means sacrificing the Divergent." She pauses for a minute, and then looks up at us, a grim look on her face. "Or sacrificing the Dauntless. So we _need_ to hear what they say in that meeting."

My heart sinks. She's right. We do. It's going to be dangerous. And she's going to want to be there, unarmed, and vulnerable.

Lynn looks up, her eyes cold. "So let's listen in."

* * *

At dinner, everyone is jumpy, our minds on the morning ahead. Tris is twitchy, checking her watch, her legs restless, pumping up and down underneath the table. She keeps sneaking looks at Christina, sitting a few tables away with her Candor family. Lynn stabs her meat like it's trying to murder her; she's still angry with her sister. I'm hyper-alert, keeping one eye out for Marcus while Lauren drones on about Dauntless training methods. She's still clinging to the hope that our faction isn't dead.

We're just a big bunch of fun.

Lynn gives up her attack on her chicken, and starts piling mashed potatoes on a roll. Tris makes a face.

"Don't tell me you're going to eat a mashed potato sandwich," she says.

"So what if I am?"

That's when I hear the whispers.

"Coward." A male voice, behind me.

"Coward." Female, in my ear.

"Coward." A whole group of them, moving past me.

I freeze, my butter knife halfway to my bread.

"What idiots," I hear Lauren say to me. "And the Candor, for making you spill your life story for everyone to see…they're idiots too."

I see Tris glance at me; she thinks I am about to explode. A few days ago, I would have. But beating up idiots will get me nowhere. There's only one way to become an alpha dog – take out the existing leader.

"This needs to stop." I put my knife down and slowly stand up. I scan the room until I find my target. If I have to do this in public, now's as good a time as any.

It seems so incredibly ordinary – finishing my chicken, buttering my bread, confronting my abusive father. This isn't how I planned this, in the middle of a Candor cafeteria. I've thought about it for years. When I was nine, I prayed for lightning to strike my father down. When I was eleven, I dreamed of bursting out of the closet with a gun. When I was fourteen, I hit him back, and he made me regret it. At sixteen, I looked him in the eye as I sliced open my hand and held it over the coals. In my fear landscape, I have cowered and kicked and punched and been beaten in return. I have fought a dozen versions of him, but never conquered one.

But I am not in a simulation, and I am no longer a child. I am the one in control. I am not afraid, and everyone will know it.

I slip past tables, through conversations. I see laughter, gestures, but I don't hear voices. And then I'm there.

Marcus turns toward me as I grab his collar and haul him from his seat. There is no fear in his eyes. There should be.

He starts to say something, and I punch him right in the mouth. Hard. He crumples and puts his hands over his face. I shove him towards the center of the room, right over the Candor scales on the floor. The symbol of truth – but this is not honesty. If I were being honest, Marcus would be half dead by now. I'm not really going to hurt him – I'm going to humiliate him. It should be easy. He's the one who taught me how.

I shove him to the ground and put my foot on his throat. I can feel him hitting at my leg, see his blood dripping on the floor. I remove my belt, and finally, he looks scared.

"This is for your own good," I say.

I draw the belt back and hit his arm. I unleash it again, on his back. All around me, the Dauntless are laughing.

And then she stops me. Just like I knew she would.

"Stop!" Tris says. "Tobias, stop right now!"

I have made Tris part of the show.

I reach into my pocket and pull out my mother's ring. I dangle it in front of my father's face, and drop it on the tiles. It glints dully against the blood flowing from his nose.

"My mother says hello," I say as I turn my back and head towards the door.

I hear Tris's footsteps behind me, but I don't wait for her to catch up. I have to get out of here, away from the belt, from any thoughts of revenge. I didn't really hurt Marcus, though I still want to, badly. But if I lose control, I'll be no better than him.

"What _was _that?"

I don't look at Tris as I press the down button for the elevator. My hand starts shaking. Of course she saw through my act. I wouldn't expect any less.

"It was necessary."

"Necessary for what?" she says. I don't understand how she can even ask that. No matter what I'm doing, or planning, Marcus deserved that. He deserved much more.

"What, you're feeling sorry for _him_ now? Do you know how many times he did that to me? How do you think I learned the moves?" I glare at her, and she shrinks back from me.

"No," she says quietly. "No, I don't feel sorry for him, not at all."

"Then _what_, Tris? You haven't cared about what I do or say for the past week; what's so different about this?"

She jerks back like I've hit her. The elevator doors open, and I step inside.

"Nothing," she says. I look at my girlfriend. She has fear in her eyes, and I'm the one that put it there. Something breaks deep inside of me. I want to punch something; I want to yell. I want to cry.

I smash my fist down on a button, and the doors close between us. I put my forehead against the cool metal, and close my eyes.


	11. Chapter 11

**So, I'm updating quickly because I wrote most of this chapter ages ago when I started this story. I wanted this chapter to be the last one, and I moved up what happens here on purpose, because in my Fourworld, this is what feels right. Hope you like it.  
**

**Do you want this to be the last chapter? - If you want me to continue, review, PM, send virtual smoke signals, whatever - I'm game if you are. Thanks so much to all the people who have read, alerted, and reviewed along the way, you all ROCK.**

* * *

The elevator plunges down, taking me away from Tris, the Candor, Marcus, that stupid cafeteria. The steel walls close in on me, and I start to breathe harder.

She knows that attack wasn't me; she already knows why I did it. It was the only way to gain back my faction's respect. But after all those years of abuse, all the fantasies of hitting back, of finally having power over my father… holding back took all of my self control. I am about to lose it, and I need to go someplace where no one will see that happen. Especially Tris.

So I go home.

When I reach Dauntless headquarters, I jump off the train, walk up to the glass entrance above the Pit and shoot out the security cameras. I duck into the control room on the way down, sit at the terminal and type in some code, disabling video surveillance. It won't hold the Erudite for long, if they're actually still bothering to look. But it will give me enough time to purge my demons.

I go down to the training room, throw off my jacket, and launch myself at the nearest punching bag. I hit the thing until I'm dripping with sweat, until my knuckles bleed, until I can no longer think. When I stop, I can barely open my hands, and my throat is sore from yelling...but my head is clear. I feel like a new person, like I can face anyone, or anything.

I walk back up the path to the glass ceiling of the Pit, wiping my face with my shirt. My footsteps echo eerily against the rock walls; I can hear every loose pebble that falls. It's strange to see the compound so completely deserted. I walk across the glass, avoiding looking down – some things never change. Then my eye catches the battered door of the fear landscape room, and I stop. I'm exhausted, and revisiting my landscape seems like masochistic madness. But after publicly humiliating Marcus, I don't think I can resist. I have to know if I've conquered my fear of my father.

I open the door to the storage closet and grab a syringe, feeling a pang of regret. The last time I was here, I took two. That was the first time I didn't have to face my fears alone. I shoot the serum into my neck, too tired to feel pain. The syringe slips from my fingers as the simulation takes me.

At first, it's utterly predictable, the wind, the height, my trembling limbs and shallow breaths. I wish Tris was here, this is her element. I need her strength. I step close to the edge and look down, and I realize that I'm not alone anymore. I have a new way to manipulate the simulation – I can face it with her. I think of Tris and I feel her hand in mine, her voice in my ear, laughing, telling me to jump….and I do.

Next, the closet, shrinking, shutting me in. I crouch down, breathing heavily, trying to subdue my panic. It doesn't work. The space grows smaller and smaller, and I push against the walls, my heart pounding, knowing I'll never get over this fear. It's depressing. But then I remember Tris curled up against me, grabbing my hand and putting it over her heart. Tris rolling her eyes at me. _Most guys would enjoy being in close quarters with a girl, Four. _

My breathing slows as my mind wanders, contemplating exactly what I would like to do with Tris in close quarters. I grin, and suddenly, the walls are gone.

I straighten up, stretching my cramped muscles. We have to stop fighting. We need each other, we're at our best when we're together. But the world around us is getting in the way. War, stress, guilt, and grief have stolen something from us - our trust in each other, our innocence. It feels weird to think of either of us that way. We're Dauntless, we're trained to be deadly…and now both of us are killers. But not by choice.

Speaking of innocence…I grit my teeth and wait for the woman to appear before me, the gun, the fear of ending a life. But nothing comes, and I feel heavy with remorse. Yes, I am far from innocent. Have I now taken so many lives that I no longer care?

Then I see a figure coming towards me, stepping into the light. My father. I let a breath hiss out in frustration. _Will this never end? _It feels like a life sentence, being saddled with this fear. I was convinced it had changed, or disappeared.

I realize that Marcus is smiling_._ I look around and see no one. He is smiling at _me_. There are no belts, no fists, no threats. He walks up to me and puts his hand on my shoulder. I shift and throw it off, glowering at him. I look him straight in the eyes, and I know - something _has _changed. I am not afraid.

So why is he still here?

Then he speaks.

"I'm so proud of you son."

I stare at him. What the hell is this?

"I always wanted you to turn out just like me. And you have - you're just like me."

_You're just like me. _The words start to echo, and I step back, horrified. My heart starts to pound. I look around me wildly; I want to run. But I can't escape from my own mind.

_God._ I _am_ just like him. I beat people up. I lie. I keep secrets. I am violent. I manipulate people - I'm trying to manipulate an entire faction. I want power. I want revenge. I'm controlled on the outside, full of rage on the inside. I'm alienating the only person I love. _Oh my god._

I stumble away and vomit against the wall. I spent years cowering in Abnegation, planning my escape from my father. In Dauntless I pretended he didn't exist. I had the faction values tattooed on my back, determined to respect all of the good in our society, and fight its evil. I know I can be arrogant, and often unkind. I'm quick to anger, and slow to forgive. I know that my father is a part of me. But I've tried to rise above that, to be better, to be _me_. I've tried so hard. And apparently, I've failed.

Marcus starts to laugh, and the laughter swells, bouncing off the dingy concrete walls. I raise my fists reflexively, to lash out at him. Why not? It's something he would do. But then I hear her voice in my head.

_Tobias, you're in a simulation. _

Does it matter if you're in a simulation if it shows you the truth?

_Since when are simulations honest? I'm afraid of crows, is that real?_

No. No. You're afraid of losing control.

_Yes. I still am. And you're afraid of turning into your father. That doesn't mean that you have._

But what if I do?

_Use the fear. Learn from it. Then when you make decisions, pretend it doesn't exist. You told me that once, when you were afraid._

I remember.

_Tobias, you're not like him. You care. You love._

Yes, Tris, I love, but only you.

Then I see her standing in front of me, feet bare, eyes bright, ready to move. I know it's a simulation, that she isn't real. But I walk over to her and touch her face. She smiles at me. I bend down to kiss her. And then she's gone.

The room is dark and empty. I sink to the floor and put my head in my hands. I don't know if I can ever go through that again. Compared to that, the beatings were easy. It's the worst fear I'll ever face.

But I'm wrong. That was fear number three.

I am still Four.

A patch of light hits the far corner of the concrete walls, close to the door. I walk towards it, and see Tris standing there.

I start walking faster. All I can think about is touching her, kissing her. Until I run face first into the glass.

She is behind a glass wall. I stand up, rubbing my throbbing nose. Tris smiles sadly at me and points to the floor. I look down, and see the water, and I know. She is back in the tank. The Erudite are executing her. She is going to die. And they want me to watch.

No way. That is _not_ going to happen. It's a simulation, I can control it. I start to pound on the glass. Nothing happens. I will it to break. Nothing. The water is up to Tris's knees.

I've got a plan. I need a sledgehammer, an iron bar, something to shatter the glass. I run my fingers over the ground, expecting to find something that can shoot or break things. Nothing. The water is up to Tris's waist.

She looks at me with wide eyes. I think of every weapon I know. Nothing. The water is up to Tris's neck.

She puts her hand up to the glass and I put my hand against hers as the water goes over her head. I look around wildly. I'm in a simulation, I know I'm in a simulation. She can't be drowning. Calm down. Think. Do something.

But I am too panicked. I start to pound on the glass, screaming her name. I pound until the bones in my hands break, and Tris is floating in the tank. Dying. Alone. I can't save her.

I tear at my shirt and scream. And the tank shatters. The water pours out around me, and Tris comes to rest at my feet, lifeless. I am absolutely still. If I touch her, it will break me. It will kill me. From far away, I hear an unfamiliar sound, an animal sound, heaving, gasping. After a while, I realize I am sobbing.

* * *

The lights come on, flickering dimly. Tris, the water, the glass, my broken bones, everything has disappeared.

I stand motionless for a long time, until I realize that my code disabling the cameras must have been broken by now. I need to leave. I look at my hands; they are bleeding, but whole. I look at my feet, and will them to move. One step, two, three, four, five to the door. I keep seeing Tris, her blank, sightless eyes.

Now I know – I have changed. The four fears I've fought since the day I chose Dauntless – those were the fears of a boy. These are the fears of a man. I will have them the rest of my life.

Even in a simulation, love has consequences.

I step outside into darkness; the sun left the world while I watched Tris die. I finally understand how she has been feeling since her parents were killed. If I lose her, I lose myself. Where she goes, I go.


	12. Chapter 12

**SO - ask and you shall receive. First, can I just say WOW. I never expected such an outpouring of positive reviews, alerts, and favorites, it is so nice to know people are reading this and liking it. Thank you so much! I'm sorry it took me so long to update, I was finishing my other story_, _Inked. I also debated for a long time whether to continue, I really liked the last chapter as an ending, and it won't get that intense again for a while (how could it?), but I don't want to disappoint you guys! And I really do like writing Four. So, onwards...and now that you're here, please stick with me! **

**-wk  
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* * *

I sit against the wall in the wide Candor hallway, opposite the entrance to the Homeless Shelter – that's what the Dauntless have nicknamed the bunkroom where Tris and I should be sleeping. Neither of us has touched our beds tonight.

I look at my watch, the one possession I brought with me from Abnegation. It's almost six, close to dawn. One hour until Jack meets with the Erudite. One hour before we're supposed to listen in.

I am sitting here on purpose, a one-man barricade designed to catch Tris before she leaves the building. The last time I saw her, she was dead, drowning in my hallucinations. I want to see her alive, and try to make sure she stays that way.

I hear footsteps behind the black and white cloth concealing the doorway, and look up as Zeke and Uriah step into the hall, rifles slung across their backs. They see me and stop short.

"Hey Four, are you coming with..." Uriah peers at me and his eyes widen. "What the hell happened to you?" Zeke elbows him in the ribs. Subtle.

"Are you okay, man?" Zeke says, concerned. Ugh. This is what happens when you're raised to avoid mirrors. I must look terrible. The last time Zeke asked me that was when I was half knocked out after my first fight during initiation.

I tug my jacket sleeves down over my battered knuckles and try to put my game face back on. "Yeah. I'm just tired," I say. "Have you seen Tris anywhere?"

"I saw her go into the bathroom with Lynn a while ago," Uriah says, "Lynn wanted to get Tris an extra gun."

Tris with a gun – I wonder how that's working out.

"I'll catch up with you guys downstairs," I call over my shoulder, already on my way down the hall.

I crack open the door to the girls' bathroom, and there she is, alone, glaring at a handgun in the sink as if she could will it to shoot by itself. Her short hair is messy, and her face looks tired, but the sight of her hits me straight in the gut. I blink, and I see her back on my bed in Dauntless, her face and body covered in bruises, and those stormy, burning, unconquerable eyes. Only Tris can look so powerful and so vulnerable at the same time.

I knock and call her name as I shove the door open, giving her a chance to compose herself. She turns to face me, her face an empty mask. I think she learned that trick from me. I swallow hard. She is not going to like what I have to say.

"Zeke and Uriah told me you were going to eavesdrop on Jack."

"Oh."

"Are you?"

Tris scowls, and anger flashes across her face. ""Why should I tell you? You don't tell me about your plans."

"What are you talking about?" I ask, puzzled.

"I'm talking about beating Marcus to a pulp in front of all the Dauntless for no apparent reason. Because it's not like you lost control; it's not like he did something to provoke you, so there has to be a reason!"

I had almost forgotten. After the trip through my fear landscape, my attack on Marcus already feels like a lifetime ago. She steps closer to me, and I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror. My hair is sticking up, and there are dark circles under my eyes. Faint scratches run down one cheek. I look like I've been through a fight – and lost. No wonder Uriah and Zeke were staring at me.

Tris, however, doesn't seem to notice, probably because she looks the same way. I close my eyes, run my fingers through my hair, and try not to think of the simulation.

"I needed to prove to the Dauntless that I am not a coward," I say, and look at her steadily. She doesn't need me to spell this out for her. "That's all. That's all it was."

"Why would you need to…" her voice trails off and she looks towards the opposite wall. I don't wait for her to draw the obvious conclusion.

"So are you going to eavesdrop or not?"

"What does it matter?"

_Because your safety matters to me. Because I love you, and I can't watch you get hurt._ I don't know why I can't just say this. Maybe I am afraid that she won't care.

"You're throwing yourself into danger for no reason again. Just like when you stormed up to fight the Erudite with only a…a pocket knife to protect yourself." I can barely get the words out. I keep seeing her face floating in that tank, dead, and me outside, helpless.

Helpless is how Marcus used to make me feel, too. And I swore I would never feel that way again.

"There is a reason," Tris says. "A good one. We won't know what's going on unless we eavesdrop, and we need to know what's going on."

I cross my arms and glare at her. She is only inches away; I want to put distance between us. But I can't. It would be like resisting gravity. I watch her eyes roam over my face. One step closer, and we'll be kissing, not talking.

Tris gives her head a little shake and leans back against the sink. "You're not cutting your hair like the Abnegation anymore," she says. "That because you want to look more Dauntless?"

I am losing patience with her. Why won't she at least try to protect herself – if not for her, then for the people she loves? I don't even know if I'm one of them.

"Don't change the subject," I snap. "There are four people going to eavesdrop already. You don't need to be there."

"Why are you so insistent on me staying home? I am not the kind of person who sits back and lets other people take all the risks!"

She is yelling now, but I stay quiet.

"As long as you are someone who doesn't seem to value her own life…someone who can't even pick up and fire a gun…" I lean closer to her, and nod towards the pistol in the sink. "You should sit back and let other people take the risks."

She is quiet for a moment, but bright pink spots of anger linger on her cheeks. Then she purses her lips into a thin line, and I know I've lost. Again.

"What are you going to do? Lock me in the bathroom? Because that's the only way you'll be able to keep me from going."

I put my hand to my forehead and drag my fingers down my cheek, the same way I clutched my face in horror as my mind watched her die. The simulation is about to get real.

"I don't want to stop you. I want you to stop yourself." Just for a moment, I let my eyes plead with hers. "But if you're going to be reckless, you can't prevent me from coming along."

* * *

The sun is just starting to peek over the buildings as we arrive at the bridge that spans the river that once divided the city. Now it's nothing but a marshy mud pit, just like the lake. I don't like this place; it's ugly, open, and exposed. Uriah and Zeke split off to nearby buildings, ready to cover us from above. The rest of us will have to climb the bridge girders and listen from below.

I glance at Tris. She hasn't spoken to me since we left Candor headquarters. She starts to climb, using her left arm to pull herself up; she is still favoring her injured shoulder. I sigh and place my hand on her waist, supporting her as she slowly pulls herself into position. I climb up beside her, and her legs are already shaking as she tries to balance. I slide my leg under her, and she rewards me with a smile. I'm not in the mood to smile back.

I hear footsteps, and look at my watch, holding it out so Tris can see it. It's seven o'clock, and right on cue, I hear his voice.

"Hello, Jack."

It's Max. Thank god I never agreed to join him as a Dauntless leader. I knew he was brutal, even lethal, but I never thought he would step so far over the line. The Dauntless have always been killers, but he turned them into murderers. There's a difference.

Sooner or later those unwilling murderers will catch up with him. He better watch his back.

Jack bleats something annoying about Jeanine not turning up, and I realize I better start listening.

"Jeanine and I divide our responsibilities according to our strengths," Max says. "That means I make all the military decisions. I believe that includes what we are doing today."

He sounds strange, like he's reading from a script – and Max has never been one for speeches. I look over at Tris, and she is frowning. She's noticed it too, even though I don't think she's ever had a one on one conversation with the guy. Lucky her.

"Fine," says Jack. "I came to –"

Max cuts him off. "I should inform you that this will not be a negotiation. In order to negotiate, you have to be on even footing, and you, Jack, are not."

I knew it. I warned him that Jeanine wouldn't take him seriously. He might as well just turn around and leave now. It would make him look stronger.

But Jack just digs the hole deeper. "What do you mean?"

"I mean that you are the only disposable faction. Candor does not provide us with protection, sustenance, or technological innovation. Therefore you are expendable to us. And you have not done much to win the favor of your Dauntless guests," Max says. I frown - he's got that right. I wonder who his spies are. "So you are completely vulnerable and completely useless. I recommend, therefore, that you do exactly as I say."

"You piece of scum," Jack snarls. At least he has some fight in him. But you can't fight a Dauntless leader off with words. "How _dare_ you-"

"Now let's not get testy," Max says. Yes, he definitely sounds weird. The Max I know would have hauled off and punched Jack in the teeth for insulting him. He's either been spending too much time with Jeanine, or something else is going on here.

I see Tris looking at me. She points to her ear, and then up to Max. At first, I'm not sure what she means, but then I get it. She thinks Jeanine is communicating with him somehow, and telling him what to say. If that's the case, the Erudite leader can't be far away. I curse myself silently. I should have anticipated this. Instead of punching things and visiting my fear landscape, I should have used my trip to Dauntless headquarters to pick up gear that would give us the same advantage. I could have told Uriah and Zeke to go in search of Jeanine and take her out.

My fears are starting to rule my head again, something I've trained for years to overcome. I don't like it.

Jeanine's mouthpiece keeps talking.

"I have three requirements. First, that you return the Dauntless leader you currently hold in captivity unharmed. Second, that you allow your compound to be searched by our soldiers so that we can extract the Divergent; and third, that you provide us with the names of those who were not injected with the simulation serum."

If Jack gives in to these demands, I'll go back to the compound and shoot Eric myself. I don't care about the consequences.

"Why?" Jack says. He is a one-trick pony, still hoping for honesty. He won't get it. "What are you searching for? And why do you need those names? What do you intend to do with them?"

"The purpose of our search would be to locate and remove any of the Divergent from the premises. And as for the names, that is none of your concern."

"None of my concern!" I look up through the mesh, and see Jack grab Max's shirt. Good. That's the way to deal with Max – physically. But then I stop watching, because Tris is starting to move, clambering over to a staircase that leads down to the street. I follow her. I don't know what she's up to, but I have a bad feeling about it. I turn towards Shauna and Lynn, and my eyes grow wide. Whatever Tris is planning, Lynn is doing something much worse. She has her gun out, and she's climbing up over the edge onto the bridge deck. I am too far away to stop her.

She aims at Max, and pulls the trigger.

I hear him gasp, but I don't wait around to see what happened – his guards are already returning fire. We all drop into the mud, sinking knee deep into the slime. I wrench my legs free and push Tris into the concrete wall, shielding her with my body. We can't stay here. We're going to have to make a run for it.

"Come on!" Tris shouts, and starts running up the stairs. Finally she's doing something sensible – retreat. Then I realize she isn't running back towards the Merciless Mart. She is heading straight into the line of fire, towards a small glass building on the other side of the bridge.

What the _fuck_ is she doing? I don't care if Jeanine, Marcus, Eric, Peter, and every other level one asshole in the city are in that building, Tris can't face them unarmed. What is she going to do when she gets there, throw mud at them?

I am so angry I can barely see straight. Anger, fear, and frustration are taking over my body, and I stumble as I start to follow her. A bullet slams into the concrete beside me, and I do what I was trained to do. I pretend the emotion doesn't exist. Then I get up and run.

Tris swerves into an alley, and I come up alongside her. Three figures in blue have almost reached the other end. Then she stumbles, falling to one knee.

"Peter," Tris shouts, her voice hoarse. One of the people turns, and sure enough, it's the thug who almost killed her. The same thug she saved from an Erudite bullet, back when she remembered where she came from. He lifts his gun, but I am faster. I point my weapon at his chest, and remove the safety. The click echoes off the brick walls.

I am a far better shot than him. Let's hope he remembers.

Tris gets back to her feet, her chest heaving. I grab her shoulder to hold her in place – her recklessness is done for the day.

"You traitor," she spits at Peter. "I knew it. I _knew_ it."

I hear a scream from across the river – a girl. It has to be Lynn or Shauna.

"Sounds like your friends need you," says Peter. He is actually smiling. It makes me want to pull the trigger. "So you have a choice. You can let us go, and help them, or you can die trying to follow us."

Tris won't follow them. Abnegation, Dauntless, Divergent – the Tris I know will not abandon a friend who needs help. Neither will I.

"I hope you die," Tris says quietly.

She backs up into me, and we start backing down the alley. I keep my gun and my eyes trained on Peter the whole time. I don't look away until we round the corner.

Then we turn together and run.


	13. Chapter 13

**Guys, thank you, thank you SO much for the wonderful reviews, I will try to do them justice. They have seriously made my week, because it was a crappy week. This chapter is a fitting end to the craptasticness. Later chaps will be better, more extra stuff, but I had to get through this ugliness first. 13 is definitely the best number for this chapter. Review and tell me what you think - it'll cheer me up. Yeah, yeah, cue the tiny violins... :-)**

**And, since I forgot to mention this last chapter, I do not own Insurgent. Veronica Roth does.  
**

* * *

There is a body bleeding into the asphalt on the far side of the bridge.

Shauna.

Lynn crouches by her sister, muttering, frozen and useless. I know how she feels. A few hours ago, that was me, staring at Tris's body in my fear landscape. I crouch down by Shauna and put two fingers to the side of her neck. She's alive, but she's bleeding out. We have to move her, now.

"We've got to get out of here," I say to Tris. I don't see Uriah and Zeke anywhere. She will have to cover us – unarmed. The most she'll be able to do is tell us when to run.

"Lynn. Look at me. I'm going to carry her, and it's going to hurt her a lot, but it's our only option."

Lynn nods mutely. I crouch down next to Shauna and lift her. Tris runs over and helps me pull her onto my shoulders. I straighten up with some effort; I am fast, but not that strong. Carrying her isn't going to be easy. Then I hear footsteps, and raise my head in alarm.

"Hey!" I have never been so glad to hear Uriah's voice. "Zeke had to help them get Jack…oh no. Oh no. Shauna?"

His lower lip starts trembling; he looks like he is about to lose it. "Now's not the time," I bark at him. "Run back to the Merciless Mart and get a doctor."

He just stares at Shauna. Powerless. Helpless. Like Lynn. Like I would be.

"Uriah! Go _now_!" I shout, a verbal slap in the face. He jumps and runs off towards help.

It is a half-mile walk back to Candor headquarters. I put one foot in front of the other, trying to not to jolt the unconscious girl I carry. Her blood drips down my back, soaking my shirt, pooling at the waistband of my jeans. Tris walks behind me. I wonder if she can see the all that red seeping through my Dauntless black.

The streets are totally silent. All I hear are our footsteps, Lynn's muffled sobs, and my own labored breathing. Tris comes up to walk beside me, biting her lip, her face pale. This could have been her on my shoulder, her blood draining into the gutters. These are the repercussions of recklessness. This is what happens when the Dauntless act without thinking. She is better than this.

I can't control Tris; I have no desire to. I don't want to shield her from danger, not if the goal is worth the price. The selfless, clever, stubborn, fierce girl I fell in love with, she knows exactly what's worth fighting for.

I would give my life for that girl, but not if she no longer cares about living.

Until I met her, all I cared about was survival. I made sure no one knew my name, or my past, or my fears. I surrounded myself with walls. Tris tore them all down, and then built some of her own. She lit a fire, and now she wants me to stand back and watch her burn.

I won't do it. I can be selfless, but I won't be helpless. Not anymore.

I see the entrance up ahead and Uriah, Cara, and an Erudite doctor running out to meet us. I lower Shauna down, and the doctor starts working on her. Tris turns away from the blood. I walk up to her, still breathing hard. She looks small, defeated – she needs comfort. She won't be getting any from me.

"I'm not going to pretend to know what's going on with you. But if you senselessly risk your life again – "

"I am not senselessly risking my life," she says, scowling. "I am trying to make _sacrifices_, like my parents would have, like – "

"You are not your parents. You are a sixteen-year-old girl –"

Her eyes spit fire. I don't care. I want to make her angry. "How _dare_ you –"

"-who doesn't understand that the value of a sacrifice lies in its _necessity_, not in throwing your life away! And if you do that again, you and I are done."

She steps back, her face shocked. She wasn't expecting me to say that. Neither was I. But I've said it, and I mean it. I can't stand by and watch her self-destruct. I care too much to be a bystander.

"You're giving me an ultimatum?" she says softly.

"No, I'm telling you a fact. If you throw yourself into danger for no reason again, you will have become nothing more than a Dauntless adrenaline junkie looking for a hit, and I'm not going to help you do it." I look up, and hold her eyes. I'm not going to hold back from her any longer, no matter how much it hurts her – or me. "I love Tris the Divergent, who makes decisions apart from faction loyalty, who isn't some faction archetype. But the Tris who's trying as hard as she can to destroy herself…I can't love her."

She looks at me and says nothing. Her hands are shaking. I step close to her, into her space, and put my forehead to hers. I close my eyes and breathe her air, just for a moment.

"I believe you're still in there," I say against her lips. "Come back."

I kiss her, just lightly, and hope it won't be the last time.

* * *

After they take Shauna up to the hospital room, I don't go back to the Shelter. I don't want to see Tris. We both need to think, apart.

Before the war, when I was angry, I would work out, do target practice, or head into my fear landscape for a good mental thrashing. But this place has no punching bags or simulation chambers. Candor is all words and no action.

I wander around the marble halls for a while. Then I stop in front of the staircase, and I know where I want to go. I start running, twenty floors up. I'm done with simulations; I don't need them anymore. My fears are already real.

I open the door to the roof and walk over to the edge. A low wall protects people from falling off. A stiff breeze is blowing in from the marsh, pushing a line of boiling thunderclouds towards the city. Even the skies are angry. I step up onto the ledge, and look out over the city, throwing my arms out wide. I let the panic invade my body and mind. Heart pounding, palms sweating, limbs trembling – and this time, there is no hand in mine, no laughing voice in my ear, no narrow shoulders to grab for support. All I have is fear.

This is what my world is like with Tris not in it.

I take off my bloody shirt, and hurl it off the roof. I look over the edge and watch it drift down to the pavement, turning over and over, catching the wind like a parachute. My body would fall like a stone. But not today. I gasp and step back from the ledge, back to the roof and safety. I lie down on the tar paper and breathe in and out, slowing my heartbeat down.

I don't know if I can live in that place again, Four's world, where no one knows me, where I don't really want to know myself. Tris is with me, under my skin, in my breath, in my soul. I can't lose her…and she can't lose herself. I don't know if she will change; I don't know if I can follow through with breaking up with her. There's a fine line between bravery and idiocy, and I think we've both crossed it.

We've already jumped off the ledge.


	14. Chapter 14

**So I don't usually update this quickly, but this one flowed out, so why not post it. Can you tell I want to hurry up and get them back together?  
**

**Huge shout outs and thanks to all of you who are reviewing, especially the last chapter. It was really hard to write, and I was so afraid that people would hate it. Let me know what you think of this one - the reviews (and followers and favorites) really do help keep me inspired.  
**

**Still don't own Insurgent. Four for President!  
**

* * *

Apparently, in Candor, Eric's crimes count as public entertainment.

I sit at a back table in the Gathering Place, listening to three Candor debate about whether a child-killer deserves to live. He's lucky he's sitting in a holding cell upstairs. The Dauntless would have put a bullet through his brain days ago.

I came in here because I knew I wouldn't run into any of my fellow faction members. I should have stayed on the roof. The people here are loud and shrill, in love with the sound of their own voices. They have nothing of value to say. If they decide to execute Eric, they won't even have to pull the trigger. The Candor use an Erudite death serum, delivered by an automated system. They keep their hands clean.

My hands are dirty – cracked nails, split knuckles, calluses, scars – the visible reminders of bloodshed. Not that I need them. The memories are bad enough.

I hear giggles at the next table and look up to see a group of Candor girls my age eyeballing me. One of them smiles boldly, raising her eyebrows suggestively. Some of the younger Dauntless guys have gotten a lot of play here – the Candor girls think they're bad boys, and unlike Dauntless women, they don't answer cheesy pickup lines with a punch to the jaw. I grin to myself, thinking of Zeke unleashed on these girls. If he wasn't with Shauna, Jack Kang would have found a way to throw him in jail by now.

My smile fades. Zeke is with his girlfriend now, watching her fight for her life in a hospital bed upstairs. I should be with him, but her mother is by her bedside too. No Divergent allowed.

More giggles, assaulting my ears like nails on a chalkboard. I don't want these girls anywhere near me. At least there's an easy way to scare them off…be Four. Grim face, folded arms, dead eyes. I glare at them for a few seconds, and the giggles turn to frightened whispers. Fine by me.

A hand touches my shoulder. Tori. I sigh in relief – she is one of the few people I can tolerate talking to right now.

She drops into the chair beside me with a tired sigh, propping a crutch against the table. She must have just left the hospital.

"I've been looking for you all over the place."

"I had a rough morning."

"I heard," she says. "Bud said Jack Kang nearly wet himself in fear. He was in tears by the time they got him back here."

I frown at the table. "Lynn shooting Max wasn't exactly part of the plan."

"Yeah, and her sister…" Tori shakes her head. "Still, Max got what he deserved. I wish I'd done it myself."

I shrug and say nothing. Tori looks at me for a while.

"I've been asked to call a Dauntless meeting," she says finally.

"By who?"

"Tris."

I look up in surprise. While I was on the roof in panic mode, Tris was thinking of the next move. It's smart, logical – Erudite, even. I'm not sure if this is good or bad. Especially because a small, selfish part of me wishes she had been freaking out too.

Tori stands up with a grunt of pain. "Anyway, it starts in ten minutes, down in the Shelter. Members only."

I nod. "I'll be there."

"You better." She looks at me intently. "This is your chance, Four. You may not get another one."

I meet her eyes.

"I'm ready."

* * *

The Dauntless stand between the bunks in our makeshift dorm, the only room we have to ourselves. There are so few of us left, just a couple hundred that haven't turned traitor. People are quieter than usual; everyone knows what happened this morning. Uriah finishes tying the door shut with a bedsheet, a ridiculous knot that wouldn't stop a five-year-old, but it's the best we can do for the moment.

"There. That should keep those pansycakes out," he says sarcastically.

There are a few half-hearted laughs as Tori calls the meeting to order. As she starts talking, I see her – Tris, standing between two beds, craning her neck for a better view. I lean back against one of the bunks and look at the floor, my insides churning. I'm afraid of what I'll see in her eyes.

I hate being this way – nervous, unfocused. I wasn't ranked first just because I had four fears. I outstripped the other initiates because I had control. I never let other people see what I was feeling. No one knew what my weaknesses were, so they had no way to exploit them. Then I met Tris, and she saw straight through me. She has broken me open, and I don't like being exposed.

I frown, and look at a brown stain on the white tile floor. It looks like blood.

I can't let her get to me, not now.

I realize that Tori just asked me about the terms Max gave to Jack this morning. And Tris is the one responding, telling us the danger we are all in. She looks pale, and exhausted, but under control. As her low voice fills the room, she rests her eyes on Tori, and her gaze is thoughtful. It makes me hope again.

"If Jack Kang is making deals with the Erudite, we can't stay here," Tori says. "So where can we go?"

The room goes quiet, and suddenly, I am focused. I know exactly where we need to be. We need to be in a place that smells like metal, and sweat, and danger. We need sharp rocks and steep pathways. We need dark places to fight our fears. We are Dauntless, and we need to feel strong again.

"Home." I lift my head and look around the room. "We should take back what's ours. We can break the security cameras in Dauntless headquarters so the Erudite can't see us. We should go home."

The crowd yells in assent. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Tris smile.

Bud steps up and puts his hand on the back of Tori's chair. "But before we do that, we need to decide what to do about Eric. To let him stay here with the Erudite, or to execute him." Bud is old school Dauntless, tough but fair. He believes in the old laws, an eye for an eye.

"Eric is Dauntless," says Lauren fiercely. "That means _we_ decide what happens to him. Not Candor."

The room explodes with yells, people banging their fists on bed frames. Apparently, the younger Dauntless agree with the old guard. Eric is done for.

"According to Dauntless law, only Dauntless leaders can perform an execution. All five of our former leaders are Dauntless traitors," says Tori, cutting through the noise. "So it's time we pick new ones. The law says we need more than one, and we need an odd number. If you've got suggestions, you should shout them out now, and we'll vote if we need to."

"You!" a voice calls out. She looks sideways at me. It's working out better than we expected.

"Okay. Anyone else?"

"Tris!" a girl shouts. Marlene. The crowd nods, there is no dissent. I should have known. She is smart, she was ranked first, and she has been acting more Dauntless than any of them, throwing herself headlong into danger, staying alive through reckless bravery and pure luck. And that's exactly what we _don't_ need right now.

I look at Tris. Emotion flies across her face, uncertainty, shock, and a bit of pride. She bites her lip, but she keeps her chin up, looking across the room towards the door, everywhere but me.

Tori nods at Marlene and scans the crowd for another nomination. I look back towards her – I know what's coming.

"Harrison," one of the older members says. I nod; he's a good choice. But he was shot with a transmitter during the invasion. The other two leaders will have to be clean. Or Divergent.

Tori waits until everyone is quiet again. And then she says it.

"I'm going to nominate Four."

Except for some angry muttering from Sean and his crowd, no one disagrees. I glance at Tori, and the corners of her mouth turn up in a tight, calculating smile. It's what we planned, but my heart still starts to pound.

"We only need three leaders," Tori says. "We'll have to vote."

I have never wanted this. Every manipulative move I've made to get here makes me feel like I'm channeling my father. The thought makes me sick to my stomach. But it's a means to an end. I want to end the war, to keep us safe, to get rid of all the corruption and conflict the faction system has caused. To do that, we need allies, and I am the only one who can get them.

This is the only way to protect the people I care about. And the person I love the most is standing in the way.

I look at Tris. She is staring at her hands, deep in thought. She knows what I'm trying to do. She knows the stakes. What I don't know is if she still cares.

She lifts her head, and looks straight into my eyes, the way she looked at me in Dauntless, asking silent questions she already knows the answers to. Right then, I know - she listened to me. We aren't done. We are just beginning.

"No," she says softly, though I hear her voice as clear as a bell. She clears her throat. "No, you don't have to vote. I refuse my nomination."

Tris is selfless, and she is brave.

Tori sits up straighter. "Are you sure, Tris?"

"Yes. I don't want it. I'm sure."

"All in favor of Tori, Harrison, and Four?" Bud roars, and the room resounds with yells as the Dauntless pump their fists in the air.

And just like that, I am elected to a job I never wanted, aided by a woman hell-bent on revenge, in place of a selfless girl who could do it better. This is not going to end well.

I walk up to Tori, and she shakes her head and smirks at me. "I hope you know what you're doing, Four."

So do I.


	15. Chapter 15

**Hello, I'm back, more quickly than expected. Some of these chapters are shorter, some are longer, some easier, some harder, I'm just going with the flow. Glad you're along for the ride. Keep reviewing, and I'll keep posting. Thank you so much for reading, I hope you like this one - it's pretty brutal.**

**At risk of sounding like Captain Obvious - I do not own Insurgent.  
**

* * *

I am still bending over Tori's chair when a loud ringing sound fills the room – one long pulse, two short ones. Then I hear Jack Kang's voice.

"Attention all occupants of Candor headquarters. A few hours ago I met with a representative of Jeanine Matthews. He reminded me that we Candor are in a weak position, dependent on Erudite for our survival, and told me that if I intend to keep my faction free, I will have to meet a few demands."

I look up, surprised – I'm not used to a faction leader being so forthright. I certainly won't be. But Jack isn't sharing everything. He neglected to mention that a Dauntless member shot Jeanine's representative in the chest. Maybe he doesn't want his faction to think it's possible to fight back.

"In order to comply with these demands, I ask that everyone make their way to the Gathering Place to report whether you have an implant or not," Jack continues. "The Erudite have also ordered all Divergent to be turned over to Erudite. I do not know for what purpose."

I shake my head in disgust at his cowardice. He isn't just willing to sacrifice the Dauntless. He is going to turn over his own Divergent members as well. He won't make a stand, even to protect his own. I feel a sudden rush of pride for my faction – the Dauntless would never do that.

His announcement ends with the same three rings. The instant they fade, the room explodes into chaos. Everyone starts running around and yelling, gathering up clothes and weapons, crying out for their family and friends. People are angry, panicked, and armed, and that means they're dangerous. I need to say something, though god knows if they'll listen - I have been a Dauntless leader for one and a half minutes.

The yelling intensifies, and two guys start cutting the sheet away from the door, screaming about Eric. I watch Tris get pushed into a wall. At this point, words will do nothing. I vault onto a top bunk, pull my gun from the waistband of my jeans, and fire a bullet into the ceiling. The Dauntless freeze. A knife clatters to the floor.

"Everyone stop. Now." My voice is calm and deadly, the same tone that I once used to intimidate initiates. The ghost of a smirk flies across Tris's face. I force myself to look away from her.

"Clearly, we need to get the hell out of here." The crowd nods and yells. "But there's something we need to take care of first."

"Kill the traitor!" someone shouts, and the crowd starts to chant. I wince inwardly. Eric and Max aren't in charge anymore, but their influence is far from gone. I hold my hand up, and the chanting stops.

"We will sentence him according to _our_ laws," I say. "But make no mistake, the Candor are going to try to stop us. Stay controlled, and stick together. Talk to no one. And run over anyone who tries to get in our way."

The crowd cheers, and starts gathering up their stuff, throwing clothes into bags and strapping on weapons. Tris walks by me as we all file out the doors, her belongings tied up in a sheet. Her eyes meet mine briefly. I want to talk to her so desperately, but now is not the time. I touch her hand, just for a moment, before the wave of bodies carries her away.

* * *

Eric sits in the center of the interrogation room, slumped in the same hard wooden chair I sat in three days before. He looks like hell – sweaty face, limp, greasy hair, bandages peeking out from under his shirt. His hands rest over his stomach, right where Tris stabbed him. The Dauntless are quiet, staring grimly at him. As a group, we are rarely silent. He knows what's coming.

All three leaders stand in front of him, but he keeps his eyes on mine. It has always been me – I am the only person who has ever beaten him. Now I've done it again, and what bothers him most is that I never really cared about winning.

Tori limps up and places two guns on the ground. I bend down and add my own to the pile.

"Would you like me to tell you your crimes?" says Tori. "Or would you like to list them yourself?"

Eric's eyes finally leave me and wander through the crowd, finally settling on someone standing close to the wall. Tris.

"I'd like _her_ to list them. Since she's the one who stabbed me, clearly she is familiar with them."

He looks back at me, sneering. I feel the throb of anger starting in my temples.

"Leave her out of this," I say to him, staring him down.

"Why? Because you're doing her?" he says. My fingers twitch. I want to smack that smirk right off his face. "Oh wait, I forgot. Stiffs don't do that sort of thing. They just tie each other's shoes and cut each other's hair."

Tris steps up beside me. I don't look at her, but her presence anchors me, calming me down. She's already taken Eric on once. She doesn't need my protection.

"I want her to list them," Eric says again.

"You conspired with Erudite. You are responsible for the death of hundreds of Abnegation." Tris's voice cracks. I sneak a look at her, and her eyes are blazing. "You betrayed Dauntless. You shot a child in the head. You are a ridiculous plaything of Jeanine Matthews."

Eric stops smiling. He gazes at Tris, his eyes empty of emotion.

"Do I deserve to die?" he says to her.

I don't want Tris to answer this question. She feels responsible for so many deaths already. Eric is not worth her regret. But she responds before I can say anything, and her eyes are icy.

"Yes."

A few Dauntless pound their fists against their legs in agreement. But that doesn't stop Eric.

"Fair enough. But do you have the right to decide that, Beatrice Prior? Like you decided the fate of that other boy – what was his name? Will?"

In the silence, I hear Tris swallow. He is trying to break her, and I've had enough.

"You have committed every crime that warrants execution among the Dauntless," I say crisply. "_We_ have the right to execute you, under the laws of Dauntless."

I crouch by the guns on the floor, removing all the bullets from the chambers. Then I hold up one bullet to Eric, and load it. I place that gun in the middle, then move the three weapons around on the floor quickly. Then I pick them up and hand one to Tori, the second to Harrison, and keep the third for myself. Each of us will have equal responsibility for this decision.

The Abnegation side of me hates this. The faction of my birth does not condone execution; revenge is selfish. They believe in rehabilitation and atonement, in the criminal seeing the error of their ways and making amends.

Eric will never do that.

We raise our weapons. His hands are shaking – he fears death. Maybe he should have thought of that before he killed others.

He holds up a hand. "Wait, I have a request."

"We don't take requests from criminals," Tori says. I know she wants to get this over with. Eric is a roadblock on the way to Jeanine, and that's the only goal she cares about.

"I am a leader of Dauntless," Eric says, "and all I want is for Four to be the one who fires that bullet," he says, his eyes taunting me.

"_Why_?" I ask him, my voice harsh. I can't believe him – he is about to die, a convicted criminal, a child killer, and all he can think about is torturing me. He still wants to win.

"So you can live with the guilt of knowing that you usurped me and then shot me in the head."

He tried to break me through Tris, and now he's trying to break me through fear. He must know about my fear of taking lives, of shooting the woman in my fear landscape, watching her blood splatter on the walls and flow onto the floor. But war changes things, and he hasn't kept up with the times.

I know something Eric doesn't. I already know which gun has the bullet in it – mine.

My hands are dirty, and they're going to stay that way.

"There won't be any guilt."

"Then you'll have no problem doing it," he says and smiles, his piercings spreading the skin of his upper lip. Repulsive.

I pick up a bullet and look at him. I feel nothing. I know there is no emotion in my eyes. His eyes narrow, and for the first time, they look troubled. This time, I do care about winning – and he knows he just lost.

"Tell me," he says quietly, "because I've always wondered. Is it your daddy who shows up in every fear landscape you've ever gone through?"

I load the bullet into the chamber, even though I won't need it. I don't look at him. He no longer deserves my anger.

"You didn't like that question? What, afraid the Dauntless are going to change their minds about you? Realize that even though you've only got four fears, you're still a coward?"

Oh Eric, they already know. And now you've shown them exactly how cowardly _you_ are.

I stand up and move in front of him. He straightens, gripping the armrests of his chair. His knuckles are white. I hold up my gun, and my arm is steady. I listen to my heartbeat. He looks towards the sky.

"Eric," I say, "be brave."

I pull the trigger.


	16. Chapter 16

**I'm back. I've been away, but I've also been hoping this chapter would write itself. No such luck. Sorry that it took a while. **

**Please read and review - this one was not one of the easy ones, but the reviews make it worth it. That's a good thing, because I still don't own Insurgent.  
**

* * *

For a moment, everything is still. Then the room erupts into yells, stomping feet, and cheers. I shut my eyes for a moment, blocking out the noise. Harrison puts his hand on my shoulder and says something to me, but I don't listen. I don't look at the body in front of me. Instead, I bend down and methodically replace the bullets in the three guns. We'll need them.

When I walk out of the room, I don't look back.

The Dauntless spill through the doors, into the hall, and down the stairs, an avalanche of black-clothed bodies. Harrison leads, with Tori on his back, waving her crutch in the air and smiling. A small blond head bobs behind them – Tris, breathing heavily, her shoulders slumped. I walk up behind her and put my hand on her back; I don't know if I'm supporting her, or steadying myself. She doesn't turn her head as we walk across the scales on the ground floor tiles.

Jack Kang and a large group of Candor block the exit. His face is already turning red as he faces off with Tori, who slides off Harrison's back.

"What have you done?" he says. "I was just told that Eric is missing from his holding cell."

"He was under our jurisdiction," says Tori. She is short and slight, just like Tris, but anger and authority make her seem taller. "We gave him a trial and executed him. You should be thanking us."

Jack starts to sputter, buttons straining on his collar. "Why…why should I be _thanking_ you?"

"Because you wanted him to be executed too, right? Since he murdered one of your children?" Tori's eyes are wide and innocent, but her smile is cruel. "Well, we took care of it for you. And now, if you'll excuse us, we're leaving."

The blood drains out of Jack's face. "What? Leaving?" He has just lost his negotiating power with the Erudite, and he is terrified. He gulps for air. "I can't let you do that," he gasps.

I step up next to Tori. "You don't _let _us do anything. If you don't step aside, we will be forced to walk over you instead of past you."

Jack looks at me and scowls. "Didn't you come here to find allies?"

I almost start laughing. He still doesn't get it – Candor needs us much more than we need them. His entire faction is pumped full of Jeanine's simulation transmitters. As allies, they're useless.

Jack points his finger at us. "If you do this, we will side with Erudite, I promise you, and you will never find an ally in us again –"

"We don't need you as an ally," says Tori. "We're Dauntless."

The crowd cheers, and for once, I join in. I let their energy carry me forward, out into the pouring rain. The Dauntless stream past me like a raging river, unleashed at last, flowing home.

I turn to look back at the Merciless Mart one last time, towards the open windows of the interrogation room, up near the top of the building. They look like empty, sightless eyes - Eric's eyes.

I throw my head back and let the rain wash over me, lashing my face, soaking my jacket, running over my hands. For the first time in in a long while, I feel clean.

* * *

The control room smells like sweat. Everything is covered with a thin layer of grime. The rest of the Dauntless are running around with paintball guns, shooting camera lenses, as well as the walls, the ceilings, and each other. I wish I was out there with them, but given my old job, I am the best person to sit in here and toggle through the screens to make sure each camera lens gets covered.

But that's not the only thing I'm supposed to be doing. I'm here to create an army.

As I type up the coded message to my mother, I can't shake the feeling of unease. Once I send this, there's no going back – and this time, I'm responsible for other people's safety. I don't trust her, but I don't have a choice. Mind control and war are far worse options.

One by one, the screens turn to black as the paintballs hit home, hiding our landmarks from Erudite eyes. An aerial view of the Pit. The transfer dorm. The training rooms. The kitchens. The camera above the drinking fountain, where Tris once raged against the leadership. The fear landscape room. The right side of the glass room at the base of the Pyre. I catch sight of Tris and Zeke, aiming at the left hand camera. Zeke fires, completely missing the lens. Tris laughs and hauls the gun to her left side, bracing it on her uninjured shoulder. I watch her eyes narrow in concentration. Then the screen goes black. I chuckle to myself. Zeke must be hopping mad – he was just out shot by a Stiff who isn't even left handed.

Bored, I turn back to my old habits – hacking Dauntless secure files - though I guess as a leader, it's not technically hacking anymore. Without worrying about covering my tracks, it's a lot easier. I break into a folder called "Tracking," and start reading. Then I forget everything going on around me. It's a long list of names, of people long dead, and others marked for execution. A roll call of the Divergent.

_Alanna Maguire, terminated. Thom Allen, terminated. Jake Bellamy, terminated. Zillah Tompkins, under surveillance. Willow Hardy, terminated. Natalie Robinson, transferred Abnegation._

Natalie. Tris's mother, it has to be. I wonder what they did to the person that warned her.

The names go on and on, at least fifty of them. Teenagers murdered before they could even complete initiation. Middle-aged people living in fear of being found out. Families torn apart.

When I told the Candor about the correlation between irregular test results and the mysterious deaths in Dauntless, I thought I might be exaggerating. I was certain about Amar, and Tori's brother, but had made an educated guess about the others. I had no idea it stretched back over decades, recorded for posterity like some sort of genocidal encyclopedia.

_George Nakamura, terminated. Tori Nakamura, under surveillance. David O'Brien, terminated. Nadiah Kibali, terminated. Amar Jackson, terminated. Tobias Eaton, under surveillance. Uriah Kibali, under surveillance._

I clench my fists. I knew Zeke and Uriah had an older sister that committed suicide during initiation – one of Uriah's fears was putting a gun to his own head and pulling the trigger. Now I know how she really died. Then I see the last name on the list.

_Beatrice Prior, termination ordered._

I slam my fists into the table, splitting open my battered knuckles. This can never happen again. Never. I don't care what I have to do to stop it.

I look at my message. The send button blinks dully. My stomach clenches as I reach out to tap it.

My fingertip leaves a smear of blood on the screen.

* * *

_8:05 train. Fifth car back. Come alone. _ That was Evelyn's answer, short and to the point, her directions clear. That doesn't mean I'll follow them.

I step into the dining hall and spot Tris halfway across the room. She still has a smear of green paint on her cheek. Her table is half empty, full of ghosts. She's joking with Uriah, but she looks lonely, diminished, like she's trying to blend into the furniture. Despite the tight black shirt and the bird tattoos perched on her collarbone, she looks…Stiff. I wish I could take her hand and lead her away from all of this, because I understand. For me, too, grief is clothed in shades of grey.

Instead, I am going to use her.

"Four!" Zeke waves me over to the table. "C'mere, there's room."

I walk up behind Tris and put my hand on her good shoulder. Her eyes narrow at my freshly split knuckles.

"Sorry, I can't stay." I lean down towards Tris. "Can I borrow you for a while?" She nods and gets to her feet, aiming a halfhearted wave at the table as we walk out of the cafeteria. Zeke is the only one who waves back.

"Where are we going?"

"The train," I tell her. "I have a meeting, and I want you there to help me read the situation."

"Why do you need _me _to – "

"Because you're better at it than I am."

Tris is the most perceptive person I know, but that's not the only reason why I want her with me. I will also use her to knock Evelyn off balance, to keep her guessing about my loyalties. Evelyn is my past. Tris is my present, and my future. I can tell my mother hates this, and that gives me power.

Power means I won't have to beg. Because war or no war, I will never, _ever_ beg for help from Evelyn or Marcus Eaton.

We walk across the glass floor, and through the concrete room where I watched Tris die. The syringe I dropped last night is still there. I clench my fists involuntarily at the memory of Tris's cold, still body, and the cuts on my hands start to bleed again.

Her eyes linger on the empty syringe.

"Did you go through your fear landscape today?"

I don't meet her gaze. She doesn't need to know that I spent last night envisioning Marcus's face on a punching bag, or sobbing by her simulated corpse.

"What makes you say that?"

"Your knuckles are cut up and someone's been using that room."

My hands have been swollen and bloody for the last 24 hours, but she was too focused on reckless risk taking to notice. It's like the old Tris has returned to her body, giving me hope. For the first time today, I crack a smile.

"This is exactly what I mean. You're far more perceptive than most." We walk towards the train tracks, and I look at my watch. "They told me to catch the one leaving at 8:05. Come on."

Tris jogs to catch up with me, a faint frown on her face. "I'm perceptive enough to know you're evading the question," she says.

I sigh. There's no point in lying. She knows after I beat up Marcus I would want to see if he was still there, filling my mind with fear.

"Yes, I went through my fear landscape. I wanted to see if it had changed."

We stop next to the tracks, and she puts her hand on my arm, her earnest eyes focused on mine.

"And it has, hasn't it?"

Warmth radiates from her hand into my body, spreading from my arm to my shoulder to my chest. My heart skips a beat; I can't remember the last time she touched me. I can't tell her what I experienced in that room – Marcus, smiling at me proudly, a man grown in his own twisted image. Tris drowning, her hand reaching towards mine through Erudite glass. Her voice in my ear, keeping the most savage parts of me at bay.

I can't tell her. But if we survive this war, I will show her.

"Yes." I don't meet her eyes. "But the number is still the same."

The tracks start to vibrate with a low hum, and a train whistle blows as the 8:05 thunders toward us. Someone has turned the front headlights off, as if to drive home the point that I'm about to make a deal with the dark side.

"Fifth car back!" I shout as we start to run. Tris jumps first, pulling herself up with her left arm. She slips, and her legs dangle by the wheels for a moment. I speed up and reach for her waist to help her in, but she wrenches herself into the car with a screech, slamming her knee hard against the floor. I jump on and crouch beside her as she grips her leg in pain.

"Here, let me see." I push up the leg of her jeans and survey the damage. It's bloody, but not deep. "It's shallow. It'll heal quickly," I say.

She looks up at me, and I realize how close she is. Just a few weeks ago, we sat in a train car just like this one, the wind in her hair and her lips on mine. Her bright eyes shine in the darkness, luring me towards her like a moth to a flame.

I'm not ready to burn.

I tear my eyes from hers, and slowly roll her pants above her knee. She flops back onto the floor of the car and stares at the ceiling.

"So is _he_ still in your fear landscape?"

I look out at the dark shapes of our ruined city. I'm not sure how to explain my new fears – that I'm now more afraid of my future than my past.

"Yes. But not in the same way." I look at my hands, and they start to shake. I have to tell her a little bit of what I saw – of what she means to me. "You're in it though. Instead of having to shoot that woman, like I used to, I have to watch you die. And there's nothing I can do to stop it."

She sits up and looks at me, her expression unreadable. She doesn't tell me everything is ok, that she doesn't plan on dying. She doesn't say anything.

I don't expect reassurance. War is dangerous. But I wish I knew I had a willing partner in my quest to keep us alive. I look down at my watch and try to clear my head. "They'll be here any minute."

The train rounds a curve, and I see Evelyn and Edward standing next to the tracks. They run next to our car for a minute and jump on easily.

"Hello," my mother says, looking at me. She doesn't acknowledge Tris at all, which means she's annoyed she's here. I was right to bring her with me.

"Nice meeting location," I say neutrally. The train takes a turn I didn't expect, towards factionless territory. Not so neutral after all.

"It seemed safest," Evelyn says. "So you wanted to meet."

"Yes. I'd like to discuss an alliance."

"An alliance," Edward butts in. "And who gave you the authority to do that?" His cocky sneer reminds me of Eric.

"He's a Dauntless leader," Tris says coldly. "He has the authority."

That shuts Edward up. Evelyn's eyes shift to Tris for a moment. Then she smiles at me, baring her teeth like a shark. I have done exactly what she wanted me to do.

"Interesting. And is _she_ also a Dauntless leader?"

"No," I say. "She's here to help me decide whether or not to trust you."

That wipes the grin off Evelyn's face. Tris smiles tightly.

"We will, of course, agree to an alliance…under a certain set of conditions," my mother finally says. "A guaranteed – and equal – place in whatever government forms after Erudite is destroyed, and full control over Erudite data after the attack. Clearly –"

"What are you going to do with the Erudite data?" Tris interrupts her.

"Obviously we will destroy it. The only way to deprive the Erudite of power is to deprive them of knowledge."

In her desire to destroy them, Evelyn sounds just like them. What disturbs me more is that I agree with her.

"What would we receive in return, under those terms?"

"Our much needed manpower, in order to take Erudite headquarters, and an equal place in government, with us."

She sounds like a queen returning to claim her kingdom. I don't understand how this woman, who couldn't even protect her own child, has risen to control a group of people with allegiance to no one.

"I am sure that Tori would also request the right to rid the world of Jeanine Matthews," I say softly. She will strangle me if that isn't part of the deal.

"I'm sure that could be arranged," Evelyn says. "I don't care who kills her; I just want her dead."

I look at Tris, expecting her to agree. Jeanine caused her parents' deaths, and nearly her own. She frowns and looks down at the floor, her eyes conflicted, but she says nothing.

I take a deep breath, and extend my hand. "Then we are agreed."

She shakes my hand and smiles. "We should convene in a week's time, in neutral territory. Most of the Abnegation have graciously agreed to let us stay in their sector of the city to plan as they clean up the aftermath of the attack."

I don't relish the prospect of going anywhere near the streets of Abnegation.

"Most of them?"

My mother's face turns guarded. "I'm afraid your father commands the loyalty of many of them, and he advised them to avoid us when he came to visit a few days ago. And they agreed, just as they did when he persuaded them to exile me."

I stare at her. I have never heard of the Abnegation exiling _anyone_, and certainly not for something like a leader's wife having an affair. "They exiled you? I thought you left."

"No, the Abnegation were inclined toward forgiveness and reconciliation, as you might expect. But your father has a lot of influence over the Abnegation, and he always has. I decided to leave rather than face the indignity of public exile."

My mind whirls. This changes everything – my view of her, and of the faction I was born into. I thought my mother had a choice, and she didn't. I have always thought the Abnegation are stubborn, even brave in their selflessness, and they are as weak minded as everyone else.

"It's time!" Edward shouts.

"See you in a week," my mother says, as they leap off the train.

For a few minutes, I listen to the train wheels rattle against the rails, trying to process what I've just heard. Tris glares out of the door into the night. She is silent, but not for long.

"Why did you even bring me along, if you were just going to make an alliance anyway?"

"You didn't stop me."

"What was I supposed to do, wave my hands in the air?" she scowls at me. "I don't like it."

"It has to be done."

"I don't think it does," she says. "There has to be another way."

"What other way?" Suddenly, I am annoyed with her. It is easy for her to criticize me when she isn't the one making the compromises. She has never had a life without love, without choices, like my life with Marcus, or the life my mother had before she left. She doesn't get it. I fold my arms and glare at her.

"You just don't like her. You haven't since you first met her."

"Obviously I don't like her! She abandoned you!"

I don't need Tris to be my defender. It's my life, and my past.

"They _exiled _her. And if I decide to forgive her, you had better try to do it too! _I'm _the one who got left behind, not you."

"This is about more than that. I don't trust her. I think she's trying to use you."

She's wrong. We're trying to use each other.

"Well, it isn't for you to decide."

"Why did you bring me, again?" Tris folds her arms, mimicking me. "Oh yeah, so that I could read the situation for you. Well, I read it, and just because you don't like what I decided doesn't mean –"

I don't know why we are fighting again. I don't know how to stop, how to break down the walls and build up trust. All I know are the skills that have helped me to survive – how to keep secrets, how to lie – and how to stay angry.

"I forgot about how your biases cloud your judgment. If I had remembered, I might not have brought you," I say, my voice low and cruel. But I have forgotten who I'm talking to – one of the few people who knows where to hit me where it hurts.

"_My _biases. What about _your _biases? What about thinking everyone who hates your father as much as you do is an ally?"

"This is not about him!"

"Of course it is!" Tris yells. She puts a hand over her eyes, and takes a deep breath. When she speaks again, she is calm.

"He knows things, Tobias. And we should be trying to find out what they are."

I spent years being beaten and lectured about how much Marcus knows. She thinks she knows what he's capable of. She's wrong. She won't change my mind about this, so she might as well stop trying.

"This again? I thought we resolved this. He is a _liar_, Tris."

"Yeah? Well, so is your mother," Tris says, her eyes burning into mine. "You think the Abnegation would really exile someone? Because I don't."

An hour ago, I would have agreed with her. But I want Evelyn's story to be true. After all these years, I'm not sure why I care. Maybe it's just wishful thinking, and she's as horrible as Tris says she is. Either way, I'm too angry to debate this with her. She's not the one to make this call.

"Don't talk about my mother that way."

The train rounds the corner and slows as it passes the few lights still on at Dauntless headquarters.

"Fine." Tris snaps, walking over to the door. "I won't." She jumps off the train, and storms off before my feet even hit the pavement. She doesn't turn to see if I've followed her.

I stand in the courtyard, my anger spent. The walls are still there, and they're higher than ever.

I have never felt so alone.


	17. Chapter 17

_At every occasion, I'll be ready for the funeral._

_-Band of Horses_

* * *

I can't sleep. Again.

After Tris disappeared into the compound, I went back to my apartment, hoping she'd cool off and come find me, even though I knew she wouldn't. Her anger is a slow burn, like hot coals or fireplace embers. Once it blazes it takes a long time to cool - not like mine, contained, hidden, building and boiling until it explodes.

Now I'm laying on my bed in the dark, fully clothed with my eyes wide open. Finally I haul myself to my feet. This is pathetic. I need to find something to do.

The Pit is deserted, the walls still smeared with paint, splashes of neon color that glow in the dim blue light. A dull bass pounds from the bar around the corner, but drunk is the last thing I want to be right now. I start walking up the path towards the control room, intending to fiddle with the security systems again, but instead, my feet turn up the switchback towards Tori's tattoo shop. There's a light on towards the back. Tori is at the counter, half in shadow, frowning at her sketchpad.

I close the glass door silently, sneaking in just like when I was an initiate, secretly covering my back with the symbols of other factions. She doesn't seem surprised to see me.

"Hey, Four. Can't sleep either?" she asks, putting her pencil down. I shake my head, looking her over. Her injured leg is stretched out on a chair in front of her, and she looks like she slept in her clothes. She gazes steadily at me, but her face is pale and her eyes look haunted. Then I look at the paper in front of her, and I see why. The page is filled with marching figures with blank faces. The street they walk on isn't asphalt, or brick, or concrete – it's made of corpses, crushed limbs and crumpled forms in baggy clothes – the bodies of the Abnegation.

She has drawn the lines in pencil, but no one can erase the guilt, fear, and horror of her memories.

I sit down next to her. "Do you remember much? About the simulation?"

"No. Just how I felt when I woke up and saw what I had done." She waves her hand at the sketch. "I guess this is…therapy."

I look at her exhausted face; I'm sure I don't look much better.

"Whatever works. Drawing is probably better than punching things." I hold up my mangled hands. Tori winces in sympathy.

"Ouch." She closes her notebook with a sigh. "So, where's Tris?" she says with a faint smirk. "I bet she could help you sleep."

"Maybe she could, if we were actually talking to each other."

"Well, I wasn't really suggesting that you'd be _talking_ – "

"Just drop it, Tori," I snap. The smirk fades from Tori's face, and her eyes fill with concern. I fold my arms and glower at her – I don't like the way she's looking at me, with pity. But then, inexplicably, she starts laughing.

"I'm sorry," she gasps, then laughs harder. I stare at her. "It's just – " The laughter slows, and she shakes her head. "We're pretty fucked up, aren't we?"

I smile a little. "Maybe _you _are."

She rolls her eyes. "Yeah, right. Tris didn't try to shoot you even when you held a gun to her head…and now you're not talking to each other."

"Hey, I did save _her_ life a couple of times –"

"Whatever." She pokes me in the chest. "Fucked. Up. And me, I'm a Dauntless leader, and I'm holed up in a tattoo shop drawing dead bodies and fantasizing about what Jeanine Matthews will look like with a bullet hole in her forehead."

I grin. "Yeah, you definitely have issues."

She looks up at me, and the laughter stops. "You met with the factionless tonight, didn't you."

"I did. They agreed to an alliance."

"And I bet they had some conditions, right?" she says.

"Nothing unexpected, though I bet you and Harrison aren't going to like them."

Tori sighs and gets to her feet with a grimace. "Come on. Let's go find some cake and start planning a war."

* * *

After our sugar-fueled strategy session, I head for the control room again – I don't feel like going back to my empty apartment. The planning wasn't complicated – after the attack at Candor headquarters, only half of us are viable fighters. Half the faction will have to stay behind with the Abnegation, including Harrison. That doesn't worry me though. With the help of the factionless, we'll be more than a match for a bunch of intellectuals and a few traitors –if we can figure out a way to take out the Erudite simulation technology.

Tori is the one that troubles me. She's not in the least bit interested in letting the factionless share power in government. I think that's a mistake – if we marginalize them again, they'll turn on us next. She hasn't seen how they live, or the anger in their eyes. She is so focused on Jeanine that she can't see the bigger picture - that we need to plan not just for war, but what happens when it ends.

The room is quiet; all the screens are dark, the way they should be. Good thing I have a new job. I play around on the terminal a while, looking for weak spots in our systems, but I can't concentrate. I finally give into my exhaustion and put my head down on the desk.

I wake up when a dull light hits my eyelids. I groan and bury my head in my arms - this isn't the first time I've fallen asleep in this room, jolting awake when the screens switch camera angles.

Except that we shot all the camera lenses. The screens shouldn't be switching on at all.

My eyes snap open.

I sit up and look at the monitor. It's showing a ceiling camera in the Dauntless-born initiate dormitory. There's a blob of paint covering part of the lens, but most of the room is clearly visible. It looks peaceful enough, though – I see a few people sleeping: Zeke, Lauren, and a younger kid I can't identify. I rub my eyes and frown; I don't see the point of waking everyone up to cover it up now. Even the Erudite don't want to watch people snore. I make a mental note to tear Sean a new one tomorrow – he was in charge of the cameras in that sector. I think I'm going to enjoy yelling at him.

Then the camera switches again, to another angle above the doorway, and something looks off. I squint at the screen. Four of the beds are empty, but unmade, the impressions of heads still pressed into pillows.

_Shit._

Three more screens pop on, but I don't stop to look where they are. I run over to the central computer station and start pounding on the keyboard. The Erudite have hacked into our system, and found every camera that's still working. I type in some code, disabling video surveillance, and put up a new firewall to keep them out. It won't last more than half an hour, but it will give us time to get rid of the remaining cameras…and find whoever was sleeping in those beds.

The video feeds freeze, and I go over to take a look. The two in the Dauntless-born dorm. One in the stairway leading up from the trash incinerator – no one there. A ceiling cam in the hallway leading to the back stairway - deserted. And one on the roof, half covered by paint.

The roof is not empty. There are three people standing on the ledge, twenty stories above the ground. One is Marlene. Two of them are kids. I can tell by their eyes and their posture that they're in a simulation.

I swear loudly. Jeanine has used our carelessness to find the youngest and most vulnerable among us, to attack us where it hurts most. We can't even protect our own.

I run up the path towards the Pyre, across the glass floor, up the dank stairway that leads to the roof. I'm not sure what I'll do when I get there – there was no time to wake people up to get help. I have no idea what the Erudite have programmed them to do, but if they jump, I can't save all three of them at once.

I burst onto the roof to find the two kids lying on the roof in tears, and Christina crouching beside them. Marlene isn't with them. I look at Christina, and she shakes her head.

I bend down and pick up one of the children, a little girl with green streaks in her hair. She slips her arms around my neck and sobs into my shoulder. Christina takes the boy's hand, and we walk down the stairs in silence. Far below us in the Pit, or maybe in my head, I hear the faint sounds of someone screaming in rage.

* * *

**A/N - Hi everyone! Like Four, I can't sleep either, so you get two updates in one week. I have the most fun when I'm writing my own scenes that aren't in the book, and I hope you like this one. We all know what's coming up next...**

**That Band of Horses song ("Funeral") is number one on the Killing Four playlist at the moment. It's ethereal, lyrical, and depressing - perfect for these last few chapters. Reviews are the opposite of depressing, so as always, leave one on your way out the door. And can I just say THANK YOU to those of you who have reviewed, alerted, and favorited - You. Are. Awesome.  
**


	18. Chapter 18

**A/N at end. And much as I loved writing this, I still don't own anything to do with Insurgent.**

* * *

There were five people on that roof last night. Tris was one of them, making another choice, watching another friend die. Christina told me what Marlene said before Jeanine made her throw herself off the ledge. She told me about Tris, stepping forward to listen. Now, it is all I can think about.

_I have a message for the Divergent. _

It pounds in my head as I take a baseball bat to the cameras in the dorms, smashing each lens to pieces.

_This is not a negotiation._

It replays in my ears as I help a team clean assault rifles, as Uriah oils each part with grim determination. It thumps in my fists as I organize combat training, as Lynn pounds punching bags in the training room like a demon possessed.

_It is a warning._

It throbs behind my eyes as I face the steely-eyed grief of Marlene's mother, the drunken fury of her father.

_Every two days until one of you delivers yourself to Erudite headquarters, this will happen again._

Tris listened to the message, but I will answer it. I am Divergent. I am a Dauntless leader. And I will make sure it never happens again.

Tori speaks at Marlene's funeral, swaying on her injured leg near the drop off to the chasm. I stand next to her, but say nothing. I have never been good with reassurance or comfort. My words don't help people to heal – they prepare them to act. There is no time to mourn; we are under siege. Every single Dauntless needs to prepare for battle. I am an instructor all over again.

I can tell some of them think I'm a heartless bastard, setting them to training, half drunk and grieving. A few look at me with accusing eyes, willing me to go to Erudite right now, to sacrifice myself so no more children will die. But most of the Dauntless follow me willingly, because they are angry. The Erudite have invaded their home - and their minds. They don't want to surrender. They want to fight.

Except one. I watch her weave through the crowds in the Pit, her blond head bowed. Tris doesn't stay for the toasts or the speeches. She walks away from the grief and booze and loud voices, into the hallway that leads towards the transfer dormitory, the same hallway she headed into after Eric praised Al for throwing his life away.

I followed her then, and listened to her rage against the faction she had chosen. She wrapped her arms around me for the first time, her slim fingers sending trails of fire up my back. I told her that her selflessness helped make her brave.

It's still true, and that is what I'm most afraid of. She is selfless, and brave, and intelligent; she knows that this, finally, is a sacrifice worth making.

The question is which one of us will make it first.

* * *

When I follow Harrison and Tori into the cafeteria for dinner afterwards, the room is quiet and subdued. I spot Tris immediately, sitting with Zeke and Uriah at a nearly empty table. She sees me and looks down, playing with her peas. Tori shoots me a look. She's right - I am screwed up. This girl is the only person I have ever trusted. She put her life in my hands, even when she thought I would kill her. She would never betray me. We should be facing this together.

I walk over to her and stop a few feet away.

"Hello, Tris."

She places her knife and fork down and rests her hands on the table. She doesn't look up.

"Hi." Her voice is tense, guarded – we haven't spoken in over 24 hours. Now, none of that matters anymore. I sit down next to her and lean in close, waiting. Finally, she looks at me, and my throat tightens. Her eyes are tired, red-rimmed, dark circled. They are thoughtful and sad, a clear, pale blue, lighter than usual, as if her life is already draining away.

She has already decided to go.

I can't let her do it.

"Aren't you going to ask me if I'm all right?" she says – fighting words, though there is no fight left in either of us.

"No, I'm pretty sure you're not all right." My eyes hold hers, begging her to reconsider. "I'm going to ask you not to make any decisions until we've talked about it."

"Until we've all talked about it, you mean, since it involves all of us," Uriah says. I had almost forgotten he was there. Technically, he is right, but I know who Jeanine really wants – Tris, or me. We beat her once, and she wants to make sure we won't outsmart her a second time.

"I don't think anyone should turn themselves in," Uriah continues. He definitely doesn't have aptitude for Abnegation.

"No one?" Tris says, still looking at me.

"No! I think we should attack back."

"Yeah, let's provoke the woman who can force half of this compound to kill themselves," Tris says harshly, finally turning towards Uriah. "That sounds like a great idea."

He chugs the rest of his drink and slams the bottle down on the table.

"Don't talk about it like that."

"I'm sorry," she says, "but you know I'm right. The best way to ensure that half our faction doesn't die is to sacrifice one life."

She hasn't just made the decision – she's already planning how to turn herself in.

Uriah looks down at the table and says nothing. The silence expands and grows, muffling the conversations around us. I feel the pulse of anger start to throb in my temples again.

_I have a message for the Divergent. _

Uriah is unwilling.

_This is not a negotiation._

Tris is preparing.

_It is a warning._

I should be the one responding.

"Tori and Harrison and I decided to increase security. Hopefully if everyone is more aware of these attacks, we will be able to stop them. If it doesn't work, then we'll think of another solution. End of discussion." I say to both of them. Then I turn and look at Tris. My next words are only for her. "But no one is going to do anything yet. Okay?"

"Okay," she says softly, not quite meeting my eyes.

She still hasn't learned how to lie.

* * *

After dinner, Tris wanders out of the dining hall like a sleepwalker, leaving her plate on the table. I'm stuck across the room talking to Bud and Harrison, but as soon as I can, I follow. I head to the last place where we were truly alone together, the last place we were happy.

The door to my apartment is ajar. I slip in and there she is, sitting on my bed in the dark, her face buried in my quilt. I shut the door, and the quilt falls to her lap. We stare at each other for a minute in silence. I feel my heart pounding, the anger boiling up onto my face. It's not aimed at her. I'm not upset with her for wanting to save people. The only person I am angry at is myself – because I am selfish for wanting to keep her here, because I have no idea how to stop her from leaving, from dying.

I look at her, and there are so many things I want to say. Instead, the anger speaks for me.

"Don't be an idiot."

I have never been accused of being kind.

"An idiot?"

"You were lying. You said you wouldn't go to Erudite, and you were lying, and going to Erudite would make you an idiot. So don't."

I can't control the words tumbling out of my mouth. I can't control anything.

Tris stands up, calm, resigned.

"Don't try to make this simple," she says. "It's not. You know as well as I do that this is the right thing to do."

I look at her standing there, straight backed and stiff. I imagine her clothed in gray, her hair pulled back, her stubborn chin lifted as her eyes dare me to throw knives at her head. After all her recklessness and daring, the fighting and ferocity, she has returned to the place we came from. Everything I hate. Everything I want to be.

It makes me love her even more. And that is what breaks me.

"You choose _this_ moment to act like the Abnegation?" I am shouting, losing it, because I know I am losing her. "All that time you spent insisting that you were too selfish for them, and now, when your life is on the line, you've got to be a hero? What's wrong with you?"

"What's wrong with _you_? People died. They walked right off the edge of a building! And I can stop it from happening again!"

"You're too important to just…die." I can barely talk. I can't even look at her, because if I do, she'll see that I am terrified.

No one warns you about love. In books it's all sunshine and happiness, heated kisses and tangled bodies. No one tells you about what happens when you mix fear with lust and longing. No one tells you about the terror, the panic, the desperation you feel when you are faced with the possibility of losing the person you live for. No one tells you about the darkness after they're gone.

"I'm not important," she says, her voice low and calm. "Everyone will do just fine without me."

"Who cares about everyone? What about _me_?" I put my head in my hands and try to stop the shaking. I am all out of words. Then I realize that I don't need any. I am right in front of her, fitting her lips to mine.

She kisses me back, and the world starts to melt away. This is the girl who led me up the Ferris wheel. This is the girl who kissed me on the train. This is the girl who has memorized every line of ink on my back. This is the girl who loves me, even though she's never told me.

She puts her hand on my chest and pulls back. Her face looks stricken.

"You would be fine," she says, looking down at the hand that's pushing me away. "Not at first. But you would move on, and do what you have to."

"That's a _lie_._" _I pull her back against me, and kiss her harder. I feel her slow surrender. Her arms wrap around me, and her hands are on my back, under my shirt, in my hair. I walk her back towards my bed, and she stumbles out of her shoes. I sit on the edge of the bed and look at her. She is so delicate and so powerful. I could snap her in two; she can conquer me with a glance. There is such beauty in her quiet strength.

I touch her face, her jaw, her neck. I run my hands down her sides and fit them around her hips. And then she crashes her lips into mine. I can't breathe. I can't think. All I care about is keeping her near me.

It would be so easy to keep going, to let our bodies talk for us. We could sink into one another and hope that morning never comes. It is already happening. Her fingers run up my back and my shirt is off. My hands touch soft skin, my fingertips skim her breasts and her sides. We clutch at each other as longing overpowers our fear.

It would be so easy.

I pull back, just enough to look into those bright eyes. I have to try.

"Promise me that you won't go," I whisper to her. "For me. Do this one thing for me."

It is the most selfish thing I can ask for – Tris, staying behind, subverting herself to spare me grief. Especially since we both know that if she doesn't go, I will. But I ask her anyway, my eyes locked on hers, pleading. Pain crosses her face.

"Okay."

She is lying.

"Promise," I say to her fiercely.

"I promise."

I want to believe her. I do. But as we sink down onto the bed, I put my arms around her and pull her close, keeping her captive. I kiss her eyes closed and will her to sleep, to wake up next to me in the morning. I will fight off the nightmares. I am her armor. I am her jailer.

I press my forehead to hers and try to stay awake.

But I am too far gone.

* * *

**So...there aren't many words, really. This was so heartbreaking to read, and to write. I hope I did it justice. Next stop, Erudite - these scenes will be almost all original, since Tris and Four are separated for so much of the time. I'm pretty sure I know where I'm taking him...but reviews will help inspire me! ;) Thank you for reading...and all of your feedback. All of your thoughtful comments are so great, they really help me think things through, and help me update more quickly. **

**Peace. **

**~wk**


	19. Chapter 19

**I know, I know - it's been a while. Life has gotten a little crazy, so the updates are coming less often, but I'm still out there, writing away. I hope you'll still stick with me. First, I am so wowed by all those reviews for the last chapter, it was incredible. It is one of my favorite moments in the book too, so I'm really glad you liked Four's view of it. Thank you! And keep reviewing, because now we're heading off into the wilderness (aka Erudite), and I'll need the encouragement. Lots of original scenes to come, and it's going to be dark. Hope you like this one. ~wk**

* * *

I try not to sleep, and I try not to dream, but I do both.

I dream of grey, and black, and blue – dull houses and smooth stones, smoldering coals and menacing shadows, cold, still water and my girlfriend's eyes. I dream of Tris, standing in front of me, dressed in the tight grey undershirt and loose trousers she wore when she first dropped into my life. She looks at me like she does not know me. We are on a roof high above the city, the top of a derelict skyscraper higher than any Ferris wheel.

She looks out at the abandoned streets and steps closer to the edge. A few more inches, and she'll be standing on air. The wind whips her hair as she leans out over the void. I start to shake.

"Tris," I gasp, extending my hand. "Please." She turns with a puzzled look.

"My name is Beatrice," she says. Her lips turn up in a polite Abnegation smile. She nods respectfully at me. And then she jumps.

My eyes open with a start.

My bed is empty. She is already gone.

By now, she's there, trapped in glass, a Divergent lab rat to be poked and prodded until they figure out how to shut her down. She has made her decision, and now we'll both live with the consequences. If we live at all.

I sit up slowly. There's no anger. The terror, the desperate longing of the night before, it's all gone. I don't feel anything but resolve. This is no simulation. I'm not on the outside looking in, pounding on walls that can't be broken. I am hopeless, but I am not helpless. I have made my choice too.

I am going after her, and I will do anything to get her out of Erudite alive.

Anything.

* * *

The street that leads from the train tracks towards the uniform houses of the Abnegation sector is cracked and littered with shell casings. A lone black boot sits in the middle of the road. Years ago, I used to walk this way to watch the trains, eager to escape, but too scared to try. Now there are bullet holes in the buildings and bloodstains on the concrete.

A few people are out in the yards and on the sidewalks, quiet and full of purpose, cleaning, trimming, walking...watching. I can feel their eyes on me as I walk down the middle of the street, armed and dangerous, my rifle thudding softly against my back. The Abnegation children run inside as I pass, their eyes wide with fear. I look like the soldiers that were here just a few months ago, shooting their families and friends. The adults turn away too – they know who I am, and who I used to be. They don't want to make me feel uncomfortable.

How considerate of them.

I feel a sudden flash of anger at their passivity. What good is selflessness if I can march right in here and shoot them in the head? The Dauntless may be brutal, but at least they can defend themselves. The factionless know how to survive. The Erudite have simulated themselves an army. The Candor are neutral leeches. The Amity just give up and get high. But not the Stiffs. The Abnegation live for a virtue that our world doesn't even recognize anymore. It makes me want to punch them – it makes me want to join them.

Edward sits on the porch of one of the dull gray houses, halfway through a can of beans. Today's eye patch has a bright red tear stitched on it, a permanent drop of blood. Gruesome.

"Welcome home, Toby!" he sneers, waving his spoon. He should think twice before taunting the guy who taught him how to fight. I walk up to him, grab his shirt collar, and yank him to his feet. The can drops, splattering beans everywhere.

"Call me that again and you'll be eating with a few less teeth," I snarl. His grin disappears immediately. I let go of him, and he lands in the dust with a thud. "Where is she?"

"Number 37." I stare at him. He gulps. "Um…your father's house."

Great. As if this day couldn't get any worse.

I don't have far to go. The house I grew up in is just across the street. I walk up to the door and take a deep breath. When I walked out of here two years ago, I swore I would never come back. Now I realize how naïve I was. Dauntless, Candor, Erudite, Amity, Abnegation, or even the factionless – it doesn't matter what I chose. I will never be able to erase my past. And facing it is the only way to give Tris a future.

I close my eyes for a moment. And then I open the door.

* * *

"You're here a bit early." My mother sits at the dining room table with a can of peas. Her eyes linger on my gun. I look around the familiar room, now filled with castoff factionless clothing, cans of food, and makeshift weapons, welcome differences that soften the bad memories.

"Something's come up," I say. "Where's dear old dad?"

Evelyn looks around the room. "Yes, the mess would make him…angry." She gets up from the table and walks toward me. "I kicked him out. I figured it was my turn to be king of the castle."

I can't help it – I smile. "I bet Marcus wasn't very happy about that."

"No, he wasn't. There was a rather public argument on the front lawn." Good. I don't like being here, but if Marcus is gone, at least I'll be able to think straight.

She looks me over, eyebrows raised. "You look like you're armed for battle right now. What's wrong?"

I came here ready to argue, to negotiate, to make a plan, to ask for help. The last thing I want to show is weakness. But when I open my mouth, my voice breaks.

"It's Tris. The Erudite have her. She…" I look down, suddenly overcome, fighting for control. Finally, I swallow and look straight into my mother's eyes. "They're going to kill her."

She looks at me, her expression unreadable. I jam my hands in my pockets to keep them from shaking.

"You're in love with her, aren't you?"

"Yes," I say simply.

Evelyn sighs and looks out the window. Her mouth turns down. "I felt that way once," she says distantly.

I clench my jaw. This is the last thing I want to talk about. "With Marcus?"

"No. With him, it was more duty, and ambition. I knew he would go far, and he admired my intelligence, or at least that's what he told me. I thought we could make a good life together."

I fold my arms and scowl at her. "I guess you were wrong."

"Not about everything," she says softly. "I did fall in love…the first time I held you in my arms."

I'm not sure what to say to this. The word love has never been used in this house. All I have ever known here is helplessness, abandonment, and rage.

She puts a hand on my arm. "Please don't push me away Tobias. Even after everything that's happened, we're still family." Her eyes plead with me. I want to forgive her, to start over. But she is not my priority right now.

"Evelyn, my family is locked up in an Erudite cell. I have to get her out."

She drops her hand and rolls her eyes. "And you're going to go in there alone, guns blazing, against an entire army? Pure Dauntless lunacy."

"I'm Divergent, not just Dauntless." I snap. "And yes, I'll do that if I have to. But I was hoping you'd give me some fighters to help."

"That would be even more foolish," she scoffs. "We're not ready. We're not even armed. And to waste dozens of lives to save one person…madness."

I slam my fist down so hard on the table it cracks. "This isn't about numbers! This is about a girl who is sacrificing herself to save others! It's about Jeanine using her to destroy the rest of us!"

I snatch a glass off the table and hurl it across the room. It hits the wall and explodes into pieces. I stride over to one of the glass shards on the floor and pick it up, dragging the sharp edge across the palm of my hand. I clench my fist and hold it up to my mother, blood dripping through my fingers onto the dingy grey carpet.

"Fuck the factions! I'm choosing again. Tris is my blood, and I'm not losing her."

I have lost all control. I am desperate. Evelyn stares at me, contempt written all over her face. All the fight goes out of me, and I fall to my knees. I do what I swore I would never do. I beg.

"Mom," I plead, the word foreign in my mouth. "Please..."

She closes her eyes and sighs. I look at my blood, soaking into the carpet. I once kneeled in this exact same spot when I was ten, begging my father to put the belt away. The memory threatens to take over my mind, but I think of Tris in the tank, and it fades away. I look at Evelyn again.

"If you have ever loved me," I say quietly. "Please help me."

My mother walks up to me and grasps my bleeding hand, pulling me to my feet. She looks at me and shakes her head.

"Tobias," she says, and puts her hand on my cheek. I don't flinch. I just wait.

She smiles.

"I think we can help each other."


	20. Chapter 20

**I know it's been a long time coming, but here it is - an update. I had severe writer's block with this one, because Erudite is going to be dark, dark days for Four...and I just wasn't in that place. Now I am, and hopefully I will write faster as a result, but be warned - it's going to get a little intense. Thank you again, so much, for reviewing, reading, alerting, and your PMs. You guys are the best. Let me know what you think.**  
** ~wk**

**And the obligatory disclaimer...is my name on the copyright for Insurgent? Nope.  
**

* * *

Even at night, it's easy to find the way to Erudite headquarters. The streets are smoothly paved, the outbuildings sleek. The dim glow of solar streetlamps light the sidewalks, straight up to the transparent blue glass of the main entrance. Knowing Tris, she marched straight through those doors with her head held high.

I don't go that way.

The complex has a back door, the final exit for wastewater, refuse, and failed experiments. It opens above a stone walkway that once overlooked the lake. It must have been a nice view, once. Now, the smell of the trash incinerators competes with rotting vegetation from the marsh.

Usually there are factionless here, rooting through discarded food and furniture, but not tonight. They've been warned to stay out of the way. I shuffle towards the dumpster, my weapons concealed by their cast-off clothing - multi-colored, ripped, washed so often that even the Amity reds and yellows are fading away. The uniform of poverty makes it easy to blend into the background, just like the garbage pickers, sweatshop workers, and beggars that we see every day, the outcasts that secretly despise us.

I'm starting to respect my mother – an unfamiliar feeling. This is her plan. She knows Jeanine's next moves, and how long she plans to experiment on Tris, information that must have come from a well-placed network of spies. She has started moving her people out of their safe houses, towards the Abnegation sector, getting them ready to fight. I begged for her help, and for the first time in her life, she is giving it to me. But it comes with a price.

My girlfriend's life…in exchange for a revolution.

I have chosen again, blood for blood. Evelyn wants to annihilate the faction system, and war has given her the perfect opportunity for full-scale destruction.

"Think about Marcus," she told me when I argued against her methods. "A corrupt, abusive, lying bastard, playing politics with the entire city. Do you really want to go back to the way things were?"

I didn't have an answer for her then, or when I let her hug me when I left, finally surrendering to her affection. I still don't. All I know is that I will play my part to take the Erudite down, to rescue a selfless girl who made a different choice. I know Tris would hate this. Last night she told me that she was willing to die. She told me to get on with living. But it's too late for that. I have tied my fate to hers, even if I have to follow her into hell.

The traitor guarding the door is the first person I kill.

* * *

I see the light before I open my eyes.

I am lying in a cell made entirely of light panels, just a little longer than I am tall. There are two security cameras in the corners near the ceiling. My body protests as I push myself into a sitting position, slowly taking stock of my injuries. I took out at least a dozen traitor soldiers before they surrounded me. Lark, the Dauntless leader I shot in the leg outside Abnegation weeks ago, took great pleasure in kicking me in the stomach before pistol whipping me in the head. I can feel blood dripping down past my ear.

I lurch to my feet, careful to keep the pain hidden. I don't want whoever is watching those cameras to see me wince. I just fold my arms, look at the wall, and wait.

I hear a series of beeps and the door opens, revealing a host of heavily armed Dauntless guards. Two of them step into the room and grab my arms, dragging me over to a woman dressed in blue. Jeanine.

"That was quite a show you put on out there, Mr. Eaton," she says with a smile.

"People died. It wasn't a show," I snarl, tensing my fists. My captors tighten their grip, digging their fingers into my biceps.

"Oh I think it was. Storming the castle alone, to break your little princess out of our ivory tower? I grew up with your mother, you know. I can't imagine her son would be that stupid." She curls her lip at the word, the ultimate Erudite insult. "Especially if you're working together."

Apparently Evelyn isn't the only one with spies.

I should never underestimate this woman. She has no emotions, no morals, and she will do anything to keep everyone under her control, locked away in the categories society created for us. But she has one weakness. She doesn't like to think outside those little boxes. She is a prisoner of her own logic.

There is only one way to defeat her – behave illogically. Behave like a Divergent.

"Where is she?" I ask quietly, my voice full of menace.

Jeanine raises her eyebrows. "I see no need to share that information with you."

"Then I see no need to share any information either."

"We have ways of changing your mind."

"Try me," I growl.

Jeanine eyeballs me like a bug under a microscope. "Tris came here of her own free will. She's cooperating with my experiments. The only reason you're still alive is insurance, to make sure she continues to do so."

"Free will," I say, laughing in her face. "That's ironic. Free will is what frightens you most, isn't it? It scares you to death."

"Shut the fuck up, Four." One of the traitor guards backhands me across the face, and I taste blood. I spit it at Jeanine's feet. A small blot of red spreads across the sterile white floor. She steps back in disgust, jerking her head at the door.

"Give him to Lark. She'll make him talk," she says. "And for god's sake keep a gun on him at all times. I don't want any surprises."

The tallest guard draws his gun and presses the barrel against the back of my skull, holding it there as the others hustle me out of the room. Jeanine calls after us.

"Wait. Take him the long way, down hallway six. I want to try a little experiment. Let her see him."

Six.

Tris.

Adrenaline surges through me; my heart threatens to leap out of my throat. I see Jeanine watching me, her eyes glinting behind her glasses. I take a deep breath, ignoring the pain radiating from my bruised ribs. I bleed the emotion from my face and stare at her with dead eyes. I won't give her the satisfaction of seeing me squirm. But my insides still churn. Tris thinks she will save the lives of hundreds by sacrificing her own. She thinks she's saving mine. When she sees me here, it will crush her – and that's what Jeanine is counting on.

The Erudite want to make her weak. I need to figure out a way to keep her strong.

The Dauntless traitors drag me up a brightly lit staircase, around a sharp corner, and into a long white corridor. Tris and Peter stand at the other end. _Peter._ My blood starts to boil. When I get the chance, I am going to find him, and I am going to ruin him. Even after what he did to her during initiation, Tris still saved his life, and this is how he rewards her. The fury comes in an unbreakable wave, from my clenched jaw down to my fists. The guards feel my muscles tense and grip my arms more tightly, pushing me towards Tris.

I look at her, and it's like a punch to the gut. Her blond hair hangs limply around her face, and her blue eyes are wide and wild, horrified. She freezes, and Peter shoves her forward. I watch her lips form my name.

I reach out my hand and grab hers as she passes. Her hand is clammy and cold, but her touch is like an electric shock. I feel the gun barrel press into my head. I squeeze her palm tightly, and then let go.

"What did you do?" Her voice is guttural, broken. She throws herself toward me and Peter almost loses hold of her, practically picking her off the ground as he struggles to control her – an image I saw once before, from a path above the Pit, right before I came to her rescue. Now, I am powerless to help her.

"WHAT DID YOU DO?" she screams, her voice filling the hallway, echoing off the walls.

I can feel the rage radiating off me, clouding my vision, making my hands shake. If that gun wasn't there, the safety already off, I would ditch my mother's plan and try to fight our way out. Tris shouldn't have to endure this, not ever. But the weapon is ready and loaded, the guard's finger twitching on the trigger. Getting shot in the head won't help her. So I give her the only part of me I have left, the only emotion, apart from loving her, that has kept me strong.

I give her my anger…and I give her the truth.

"You die, I die too." I look over my shoulder at her and watch the color drain from her face. "I asked you not to do this. You made your decision. These are the repercussions."

I watch her jaw set, and tears well up in her eyes. It is the last glimpse of her I am allowed to see.


	21. Chapter 21

**A/N at end. I do not own Insurgent.**

* * *

Pain is a state of mind. The Dauntless use it during initiation to break people down to their base elements, to help their members move beyond fear. My father uses it to create terror, as a tool for control. I use it to train, to grow stronger, to forget the past. Tris uses it to remember, suffering to honor the dead.

The Erudite ignore the body, and go straight for mental anguish. Or at least they seem to enjoy inflicting it on others. So wherever I'm being taken, I know I'll end up in a world of hurt. Physical punishment I can take – thanks to Marcus, I have a talent for tolerating pain. It's the mental torture I'm less certain about. I saw how Tris looked in the hallway, the haunted look in her eyes. She is stronger than I am, a Divergent inflamed with a selfless sense of purpose. If they can break her, there's no hope for me.

But I saw her, I touched her, still whole. If she can hold on, so can I.

The traitor guards march me to the end of the hallway and shove me into a room, a simple cell rigged for simulations. A slender dark-haired woman stands in front of the metal chair.

At first glance, Lark Ryan - Amity transfer, Dauntless leader - looks slight, pretty, and unassuming. When I was an initiate, I used to admire her frenetic energy and utter fearlessness, until I figured out that she equated bravery with ruthless violence. She makes Eric look like a cute, fluffy kitten. I don't know how she got through a childhood in the Amity compound without ending up in jail. She must have eaten a lot of bread.

"Sit," she says, motioning to the chair.

"They won't work on me, you know," I say, nodding towards the computers.

"That's an Erudite solution," she says, rolling her eyes. "I prefer Dauntless methods myself." She tilts her head and glances at the guard to my right, and he punches me in the gut, right below my bruised ribs. The blow makes me see stars for a moment, but anger quickly eclipses the pain. I wrench my arm from his grasp, punch him in the jaw, sweep his legs out from under him, and draw my fist back to break his nose. I hear the click of a gun, and the barrel presses into my head again. I release him and stand up slowly.

"Maybe you've forgotten. I'm pretty good at those Dauntless methods," I choke out. My ribs are on fire – every breath hurts.

She laughs. "You're still a coward."

"And you're still a traitor. Why don't you fight me yourself and we'll find out how brave you are."

Her eyes narrow. "I'm not an idiot. Much as I'd like to repay you for that gunshot wound, that would be a total waste of time." She smirks as her thugs wrestle me into the chair and tie me down. "We're here for information about the factionless safe houses, and if we need to beat it out of you, we will."

I glare at her and say nothing. Her rings catch the light as her fist connects with my face.

* * *

Pain is a means to an end. The side effect of strengthening muscles. The sting of a tattoo. Facing down a bully. The price of disobedience. An incentive for betrayal. It's the rawness of nerve endings and injury and heartbreak, the body's way of setting limits – and the soul's pathway to exceeding them.

Marcus used to say that pain was good for me, that whatever didn't kill me would make me stronger. This time it's true. This time, like Tris, I use the pain to remember instead of forget. I use it to honor her.

* * *

"I should have known," Lark says grudgingly, fiddling with wires. "You were Dauntless, you know how to take a beating."

She has given up. The only things she got out of me were some curses and a roaring recitation of the Dauntless creed – throwing the values she rejected back in her face. We both know she can only go so far. Jeanine doesn't want to kill her lab rats. At least not yet.

"I'm still Dauntless, unlike you," I croak, my voice hoarse. I can feel my jaw swelling up, the trickle of blood above my eye. "And you can tell your new boss I know how to give a beating, too."

"From what I hear, the bitch already knows," mutters one of the guards by the door. I shoot Lark a sarcastic smirk.

"Shut up, Jeremy," she hisses. Apparently not every traitor is loyal to Jeanine. I wonder why that guard is sticking around.

She holds up a syringe, her hands shaking in anger. A twitch starts above her left eye. "Didn't you need your little Stiff girlfriend to help you break out of this last time?" she sneers. "Well, this formula is stronger, and you're going to tell us exactly what we need to know. I'm just glad I got the chance to pound on your pretty boy face before we win."

I look at the serum, the same ominous red color that Jeanine shot into my neck during the attack, the simulation that turned my friends into enemies.

I pretend my fear doesn't exist.

"I. Am. Divergent," I growl at her as she walks towards me.

Then the needle is in my neck, and the room tilts into darkness.

I stand at the railing above the chasm, staring into the churning water far below. The Pit is deserted, filled with the echoing silence that only comes to Dauntless late at night. I blink, trying to adjust to the lack of light. Then, I can't see anything. Someone has placed their hands over my eyes. I freeze, startled, until I hear her low voice in my ear.

"You're way too easy to sneak up on, Four," Tris says, laughing. It's a happy, glorious sound, filling my head, dissolving the tension in my neck and back. I don't remember why I was so wound up. I smile and grab her hands, bringing them down around my waist, pulling her body closer.

"Maybe I already knew you were there."

She drops her arms and walks around to face me. "I'll always be there," she says, putting her hands on my chest. She tips her head up, her eyes serious, searching – and her lips meet mine. The kiss starts slow, soft, quiet, but soon my hands are in her hair and her arms are wrapped around me, and she is all there is. I drink her in, thirsty after a long drought without her lips, her breath, her heat. I don't understand my desperation. Like she says, she has always been there, with me.

She pulls back a little, and runs her fingers down my arms. I watch chill bumps rise in their wake.

"Why won't you tell me?"

"Tell you what?"

She puts her hand on my cheek. "What you're planning. You're so troubled. There are so many things you haven't told me."

I look down. She is right. I have been selfish. I have kept so much hidden from her. I am dishonest, suspicious, of her, of everyone. I need to let her in. I will tell her everything she wants to know.

I look at her, and she smiles.

"Love is trust, Four," she says softly. "You can tell me anything," she says, kissing my neck. " We can share everything." She nibbles at my lower lip, and I catch my breath. Her tongue touches mine, and the world evaporates. This is what I've wanted for so long – Tris, passionate, confident, unreserved, a Tris who wants me, who loves me despite my arrogance and anger – the only girl who can see straight through me.

A girl who no longer calls me Four.

Her hands slip under my shirt, and I feel like crying. I step away from her and sigh.

"I'm sorry Tris, I can't. Because this isn't you."

She looks away and frowns, biting her lip, just how she always does when she's upset or worried. "What do you mean?" she says. "Of course I'm me."

"No, you're not. You're a simulation. All of this is a simulation. I – " I swallow hard. "I don't even know where you are, or what they're doing to you."

"Maybe they're doing the right thing. Did you ever consider that?" She turns back towards me, her eyes hard, dark, nearly black, empty – Lark's eyes. They have taken her, and changed her. They are taking everything I care about. And they are going to pay the price.

I used to think I was the trainer, teaching Tris how to conquer her fears the same way my instructor taught me – how to play the game, how to hide. But I'm the one who got schooled. She has shown me the real way to control my destiny. She has shown me how to break free.

I glance up towards the ceiling of the Pit, out through the glass into the vast, dark expanse of my mind.

"You lose, Lark," I shout. I look at the corrupted copy of my girlfriend, leaning against the railing, mist dancing in the air around us. I smash my fist down on the top bar, and the metal barrier disintegrates.

Her dark eyes flash as she tumbles over the side.

* * *

When I wake, my eyes are wet, and my limbs ache. I can still hear the screams as the thing that once was Tris fell into the void. I shudder.

Lark screams in frustration. "Tell me how you did that!" she shrieks.

I look at her, and only three words come to mind.

"Go. To. Hell."

She draws her fist back, but doesn't swing, and for the first time I see fear behind her rage. Now she knows she has no real power – the same lesson Eric learned, the moment he realized I wouldn't hesitate to pull the trigger. She drops her arm and walks over to the exit. Then she pauses and looks back at me over her shoulder.

"When Jeanine is done playing with her, I'll kill Tris myself. And I'm going to make you watch."

The door slams, and I close my eyes.

* * *

Pain is the end of the line. The dull ache in your chest when you realize how much you've lost. The twist in your gut when you see what you've done. The rush of air as the ground rushes up to meet you. It's truth and torment and consequence – the never-healed wounds from the hurt you cause others.

I wonder if my mother knew that this would happen, all this pain. I wonder if she cares. It doesn't matter. I would have come here anyway, and it would have been for the right reasons. The outcome would be the same. Jeanine still wouldn't have believed me, because love is not logical. But that won't stop her from using it. They will break Tris to get to me, and I know what comes next.

She will suffer, and I will remember.

* * *

**Wow, over 200 reviews, over 21,000 hits...just incredible! You guys are so great! So, yeah...the next few chapters aren't going to be full of sweetness and light. So, um, enjoy the darkness. Or just...keep reading. **

**peace.  
**

**~wk  
**

**Oh, and shameless plug - I've written one chapter of a Marcus story - check it out and let me know what you think. I'm trying to decide whether to continue it.**


	22. Chapter 22

**So more gloom and doom…sorry for the updates being so infrequent, but I am attempting NaNoWriMo this month and I am only working on this when procrastinating on my own project. Honestly, it's only the reviews that are keeping me going, so THANK YOU for reviewing. At least this is a bit of a longer chapter.**

**One of you asked if I am a guy. Hmm (raising eyebrows). Maybe I am. Maybe I'm not. Take a guess…you have a 50% chance of being right. I won't tell you my nine fears (I'm no Four), or my real name, but stick with me till the end of this thing, and I'll let you know that at least. ;)  
**

**~wk  
**

**One person I am definitely not – Veronica Roth. Don't own much, and I don't own Insurgent.**

* * *

The beep of the door wakes me out of my nightmares, but I don't bother to get up. If the traitors want me to go somewhere or do something, they're going to have to force me. I don't even turn my head to look at who comes into the room, until I hear his voice.

"Um…Four?"

I open my eyes slowly, or at least as far as I can. One of them is almost swollen shut. A face swims into focus. Messy brown hair. Green eyes. Weak chin.

Caleb.

I pull myself to a sitting position, wincing. "Caleb. Are you all right? How did they find – "

Then my head catches up with my mouth, as my brain finally registers what he's wearing. Blue t-shirt, blue-rimmed glasses, blue sneakers – the grey is gone. He's Erudite from head to foot.

"Right." I lean back against the wall and glare at him. "I guess you're not here to break me out with a butter knife, then."

Caleb runs his fingers through his hair and looks away, smiling faintly. "No, I'm not."

I look at the floor. I don't even have the energy to feel angry. I can feel the weight of his betrayal, bearing down on Tris until she has nothing left to give. I imagine the slow wrench of his knife in her back, and I ache for her.

"Does she know?" I ask him, my eyes on my bare feet. They have taken my shoes, even though there's nowhere to run.

"Not yet."

Two weeks. I'm supposed to ask her to wait for two weeks. Fourteen more days of poking and prodding, of brain scans and mind control, of holding on through worry and pain and lies. Soon they will dangle this traitor in front of her, taunting her with the only family member she has left. He will tell her that blood means nothing, that his faction is all that matters.

I turn my hand over and look at the ragged slash on my palm, a new cut among old scars. He is wrong. Blood means everything, whether you want it to or not.

"What do you want?" I stand up slowly, my eyes boring into his. He takes an involuntary step backwards toward the door.

"I've come to suggest you cooperate with us," he says, looking at the wall behind me. His voice is clipped, robotic, a cheap imitation of Jeanine's emotionless tone.

I laugh mirthlessly. "If Jeanine's serums and Lark's fists haven't worked, whatever _logic_ you have to offer certainly won't."

He starts chewing on his lower lip, an expression so like Tris that I have to look away for a moment. Then his face darkens, and the resemblance disappears.

"Jeanine will use her to get you to talk, and it's going to be terrible. If you really cared about Beatrice, you would give us the information," he says. "She would do the same for you."

Anger flares in me again; I feel the blood rushing into my face. I step closer to him, and he backs into the door, his body tense. "You don't know her at all, do you?" I say quietly. "She came here willingly, to offer one life to save many. If I give in to you, and more people die, she will never forgive me."

Caleb's face screws up in anger. "Neither of you understand! You're just like all of the other Dauntless - blunt instruments. You don't think, you just act. Point you in one direction, and you charge." He starts shouting. "You don't have all of the information! We are doing this for the greater good!"

There's nothing I hate more than someone who unleashes pain and suffering and then tells me it's good for me.

"You're pathetic." I get right in his face, and he cringes. "You've swallowed every faction lie you've ever been told. There isn't a single independent thought in your big, empty Erudite brain. So much for intelligence."

Caleb stiffens, his eyes hardening at the insult. "Fine," he snaps. "You two deserve each other."

"Yeah," I whisper. "We do." I grab his shoulders and slam him up against the door. I want to punch him, to black his eyes and break his nose, to snap his bones and make him beg for mercy. I hold him there just long enough to make him think I will.

"Get the hell out of my cell," I say to him. And then, for Tris, I let him go.

* * *

They come for me not long afterwards. Lark's dark eyes are full of glee – not a good sign. She has three new Dauntless guards with her, big brutes even slower than the last ones. They grab my arms and haul me out of the door, and this time, I let the pain show, limping down the hall. Maybe I can turn weakness to my advantage.

They shove me into a large room, filled with computer monitors and medical equipment. My eyes immediately dart to the corners, looking for security cameras, escape routes. A few Erudite scientists in white lab coats mill around a metal table in the center of the room.

"What is this?" I ask. Lark looks sideways at me and grins, and that's when I see her, trussed to the table like a sacrificial lamb.

"Tris," I croak, and lurch towards her. The guards yank me backwards and shove me towards the far wall. One of the scientists steps away from the table, a pudgy woman in a blue dress. Jeanine.

I ignore her. "Tris, are you okay?" I call to her.

She nods. Her head is the only body part she can move. "Yeah," she says. "Are you?"

I nod, but I can tell she doesn't believe me. Jeanine steps between us.

"Rather than waste any more time, Mr. Eaton, I thought I would take the most logical approach," she says primly. I frown. Whatever this is, it doesn't look like logic. It looks like torture. "Truth serum would be preferable, of course, but it would take days to coerce Jack Kang into handing some over, as it is jealously guarded by the Candor, and I'd rather not waste a few days."

How efficient of her.

Jeanine steps closer to Tris and motions to an assistant, who hands her a syringe filled with grey liquid. I don't know what this serum does, but Tris has beaten every formula Jeanine has developed. I know she can fight this one too.

"In a few seconds, I will inject Tris with this liquid. At that point, I trust, your selfless instincts will take over and you will tell me exactly what I need to know."

Selfless instincts. Jeanine has never understood what that means. The only thing preventing me from ripping Tris off that table right now is selflessness – because this war is bigger than both of us. If I give in, it will be for the same reason I begged Tris to stay in Dauntless with me, to stay safe. It will be to spare her suffering, to spare me grief, to save me from living in a world without her.

It will be because I am selfish.

"What does she need to know?" Tris asks, cutting Jeanine off.

"Information about the factionless safe houses." I can feel Tris's eyes on me, but I can't look at her. Too much emotion would show on my face.

"Don't give it to her," Tris says hotly. "I'm going to die anyway. Don't give her anything."

My jaw works at the word "die." She won't. I will not let that happen.

"Remind me, Mr. Eaton," Jeanine removes her glasses and polishes them idly on her lab coat. "What do Dauntless simulations do?"

If she calls me by my father's name one more time, I am going to punch her in the face. "This isn't a classroom," I growl. "Tell me what you're going to do."

"I will if you answer my very simple question."

Anything to shut her up.

"Fine." I catch Tris's eye, and launch into the explanation I gave her and every initiate during training. Maybe hearing it again will help her through this. "The simulations stimulate the amygdala, which is responsible for processing fear, induce a hallucination based on that fear, and then transmit the data to a computer to be processed and observed."

"Very good." Jeanine gives me a condescending smile. "When I was developing the Dauntless simulations, years ago, we discovered that certain levels of potency overwhelmed the brain and made it too insensible with terror to invent new surroundings, which was when we diluted the solution so that the simulations would be more instructive. But I still remember how to make it."

So the tools the Dauntless now use to conquer fear started out as a science experiment gone wrong. Fitting.

Jeanine taps the syringe. I hear the click of her fingernail against the glass, like claws scraping against a window - the soft, primal sound of terror.

"Fear," she says, "is more powerful than pain. So is there anything you'd like to say, before I inject Ms. Prior?"

There is plenty I would like to say, but not to her. I look at my girlfriend, and her eyes blaze into mine. She looks fierce. She looks proud. I speak with my eyes, telling her the only thing she needs to hear.

_Be brave, Tris_.

She nods, just once. I lift my chin and press my lips together. Tris closes her eyes. And Jeanine sticks the needle in her neck.

At first, there is nothing but the soft beep of the heart monitor, a steady metronome showing that all is normal. Lark starts to hum tunelessly, a nasty smirk playing around her mouth. A guard in black shifts in the far corner, and I recognize Peter, his arms folded and brows furrowed. Then Tris moves her head and gasps, and her eyes fly open, staring at demons only she can see. The heart monitor explodes with sound.

That's when the screaming starts.

I have watched Tris fight so many of her fears. The crows. The tank. Her family, broken, bleeding, dying. Me, pushing her farther than she's ready to go. The only time I have ever seen her lose it was when she fought off kidnappers during Lauren's landscape demo, and even then she would have calmed down if I had given her the chance. She has thwarted every serum in this city, and awed me every step of the way. But this is different.

This isn't a serum. This is poison.

I yell her name, throwing myself towards her. Lark's massive guards tackle me, wrenching my arms behind me, physically lifting me off the ground as I struggle. I want to fight them, to bash my head into their noses and let the blood flow, to slam my feet into their guts and groins. But I can't concentrate on breaking free, not with my eyes full of Tris sweating and gagging, my ears full of her wails, a shrill keening sound that makes my hair stand on end.

I am helpless, physically and emotionally. I am useless. And Jeanine knows it.

"Tobias," Tris groans, her sightless eyes turning towards me. Tears roll down her face, dripping from the table onto the floor. "What are you doing?" she screams. "Stop! Stop!" Her mouth keeps moving, but there are no more words. Her back arches and her fists clench and her entire body becomes a solid mass of sound and terror and fury. Our screams blend together as all the fight goes out of me. We are one, Four and Six together again, all emotion and no thought, all fear and anger and grief and pain.

I stop struggling. I can't watch this anymore - the Abnegation and the Dauntless and the factionless and all of our friends be damned. No one is that selfless.

"Beatrice." I exhale, her full name escaping my lips as a sob. I will let her down. Again.

"Well?" Jeanine says calmly, barely looking at the girl shrieking behind her. "You can stop this at any time."

"Fine," I croak, my voice hoarse from yelling. "Anything. Just please…stop this."

Jeanine nods at the doctor monitoring the machines. "Sedative," he says loudly, his face pinched with distaste. The needle goes in, and the room slowly falls silent as Tris's screams turn to quiet sobs.

"Let me go," I say, and Tris opens her eyes, blinking at me through her tears. "That's the only way I'll tell you, is if you let me go."

Jeanine nods, and the guards release me. I run to Tris and grab her hand, running my hand over her hair. It's limp and wet, soaked through from sweat and tears. I press my forehead to hers so I can feel her breath, the pounding of her pulse. Her eyes flutter closed, though I know she's not asleep. I swallow hard – I hate that on top of everything she's been through, she'll hear me giving in.

"The factionless safe houses," I say against Tris's cheek, "get me a map and I'll mark them for you."

I glance up at Jeanine and see a fleeting look of triumph cross her face. Until this moment, I've thought of her as a robot, an Erudite machine that sees the Abnegation as an obstacle easily overcome, the Divergent as a problem she needs to solve. No longer. She wants to win. She wants to break my will, and conquer Tris's brain. Now it's personal, and she will do anything to beat us.

Now it's personal for me, too. Now I know she has feelings – and I will make sure she feels fear.

I will make it my mission in life.

For years, I've tried to forget my past, the false grief, the hidden resentment, the beatings, the intimidation. I wrapped it in layers of grey anonymity. I fought it in simulations and hid it behind tattoos and tight-lipped arrogance. I ignored it when I looked in the mirror. I will always hate it. But I can use it.

Blood is everything, both old and new. Tris has my love. And I have my father's eyes.

I pull back from Tris, still clasping her hand. I watch Jeanine smile, and I let the anger overtake me - the fear, the pain, the rage. I watch her, and it is more than a look. It is a promise.

I will destroy you.

I hold onto Tris until they pull me away; my eyes hold Jeanine's and I watch her smile fade.

For a moment, she looks afraid.


	23. Chapter 23

**I'm so sorry. I never go this long without updating, but I've been out of the country, and after 8 flights in 3 weeks, well...I had a few other things going on. All I can say is that I am overwhelmed by all of the reviews and PMs and support for this story. Thank you so, so much for sticking with me, even through all these dark chapters. Let me know what you think - this one didn't come easy. Love you guys.**

**~wk  
**

* * *

Back in my cell, I can't sleep. I can't wake. Eyes open, eyes closed – it doesn't matter. All I see is Tris, her face slack with terror, tattooed onto my retinas like the flames that stretch across my back.

Then finally, the nightmares come, and they are worse.

I dream of mirrors, a room full of them, covering the ceiling, floor, and walls. Fun house mirrors that distort the body. Big, broken shards that reflect my eyes - my father's eyes. I look around, and all I see is him, a hundred carbon copies of his resentful scowl, the frown lines on his forehead, his clenched fists, ready to strike.

My mirror image.

"Choose!"

Jeanine's nasal voice rings through the room, and the mirrors vibrate. I raise my fist, and blood drips through my fingers.

_You're not like him._

Her whisper echoes around my head. I search for her, a flash of blond hair, a glimpse of her stubborn chin. But Tris is just a memory, and I have nothing to hold on to anymore.

I pull out my gun and fire, and a mirror shatters. One Marcus disappears, then another. I fire again and again, and glass rains down on my face and arms. The shards pierce me, but I smile, because now the simulation will end. Then my eyes slowly open to reveal glowing white walls, and I know. Nothing is finished, and none of it will fade away.

This place has always frightened me, the place where dreams meet the waking world – the place where I remember. I've trained myself to bypass it, to wake up cold and alert, bolting upright into the present. But that doesn't work here. In this Erudite prison of soft, sterile light, it all blends together, night and day, dreams and simulations, reality and nightmares.

I am trapped, suspended in the midst of fear. But I am Dauntless, and this is what I've trained for. I am the one who decides when to fear, and when to fight.

The door opens, and the big guard Jeremy steps in, carrying a sandwich. He places the plate down on the polished floor, and slides it towards me. I look at the food – brown bread, greyish meat, bland and unappetizing – a meal fit for a Stiff. I take a bite, and it's a little taste of home. Normally, that would make me want to choke, but today, for some reason, it gives me a small measure of strength.

The traitor hovers by the door until I look up. "What's the problem? Finally growing a conscience?" I ask contemptuously.

Jeremy glances toward the cameras in the ceiling, then down at me, his lips pursed. "They sent a needle squad out to the first safe house," he finally says. "But no one was there."

I stare at him, take a big bite of sandwich, and say nothing. Maybe, deep down, there is still a little bit of Dauntless in the guy. I still hide my sigh of relief. At least my weakness hasn't killed anyone else – yet.

Jeremy shrugs. "Just thought you might want to know." He turns to leave, but my voice stops him.

"Why are you here? You don't seem to enjoy taking orders from the Nerd Queen."

"Max was my brother," he says to the door. "He was family."

That's no excuse. I should know.

"Maybe you should find a new one," I say coldly.

The door slams, and he's gone.

"I did," I say to the floor, and push the sandwich away.

* * *

Another hour, another walk down long, blank hallways where I learn nothing. So far, my stay in Erudite has yielded little information and plenty of pain. Jeanine has played both of her Divergent prisoners like a chess master, using our feelings against us. So I'm locking the emotion away, and starting a new game. I can use strategy too.

I limp as I walk, wincing for the trio of traitors that flanks me, my guard of dishonor. The tortured weakling act is working. They no longer hold a gun to my head. Instead, two of them hold my arms, smirking at my injuries, confident in their control.

Idiots.

We turn a corner, and I see them at the other end of the hall. Peter guides Tris towards me, his hand clutching her upper arm, a dominant, possessive gesture that makes my skin crawl. She looks up, not at me, but to the center of the corridor, where for just a few seconds, our hands can touch, connect, squeeze strength into each other. She doesn't look like she has much left to give.

Six steps away. Breathe in. Her bare feet shuffle forward.

Five steps. Breathe out. Her eyes look dull, passive, clear blue covered by a fog of grey.

She needs help.

No. She needs hope.

I make a snap decision. It's time to act.

Four steps. Breathe in. Her fingers twitch in anticipation.

Breathe. Aim. Release.

I exhale, and go limp. Surprised, the guards loosen their grip, and I crumple to the ground. And all hell breaks loose.

I twist and grab the gun from the smaller guard's holster, pivot around, and fire. The bullet rips into the meaty part of his thigh, and he screams. I turn and shoot the other guard in the chest before he can draw his weapon. Behind him, Peter dives, pulling Tris with him. I hear the thunk of someone's head hitting the wall. The third traitor lunges for me, and I kick him in the gut. He folds over instantly, grunting in pain. I bring the butt of the gun down on his head, and he falls. I spin around, aiming for Peter, but he has already let her go.

I grab Tris by her uninjured arm, pull her up, and start to run. I know we won't get far. It doesn't matter. I only have two goals – find the control rooms, the hubs of Erudite intelligence – and give Tris a reason to hold on.

I have a feeling the second goal will be harder.

We round the corner, and Tris starts to lag. I turn as she wheezes my name. Her scalp is bleeding, and her face is drawn up in pain. It must have been her head that hit the wall - now she'll have a concussion on top of everything else.

"Oh no." I reach out and brush my fingers along her cheekbone. "Come on. On my back." I bend down and she climbs on, pressing her forehead between my shoulder blades. She feels light, lighter than the last time I carried her, heavy with grief by the train tracks. Tris has never sought my help, or my pity, but for once, I feel useful, giving her my speed and my strength.

I rush down yet another empty hallway, and it doesn't take her long to realize that I have no intention of escaping.

"Tobias, you missed it."

"Missed…what?" I say, breathing hard.

"An exit."

"Not trying to escape. We'd get shot if we did," I tell her. "Trying to…find something."

I take another turn in the sterile maze, and almost drop her. A row of offices stretch in front of us, filled with workers dressed in blue. All conversation ceases as they stare at us, two barefoot rebels dressed in black, bleeding and bruised. I don't see their faces, all I notice is their computer screens.

For a minute, I freeze, thinking hard. This whole idea of infiltration, invasion, destruction – we were so wrong. We should have tried to kill them virtually. The factionless have good hackers, kicked out of Erudite for computer crimes. We should be using them…and me.

Tris's heavy breaths against my neck bring me back to reality. Cyber war won't help Tris survive. I need to focus on what's in front of me – the target I came for, a door at the end of the room marked CONTROL – A. I've found what I came for. Now, all I need is time.

I locate the security cameras and take them out. That should give us a few minutes to talk before they find us.

"Time to get down," I say to Tris. "No more running, I promise." She slides off my back slowly, and I feel the chill as each part of her leaves me. Then she takes my hand, and it's all I can do not to pull her towards the door, killing whoever gets in our way. But that would be suicide, so instead I tug her into a supply closet and wedge a chair under the doorknob.

I just chose to lock us in a dimly lit closet, surrounded by enemies. Only Tris can appreciate the irony.

She looks up at me, the blue light accenting the planes of her face. She looks years older, tired, spent, and it shocks me. For a moment, I forget everything I have planned to say. Then she squeezes my hand, and I remember what I need to give her. A plan. A future. A stake in the fight.

"I don't have much time, so I'm going to be direct."

She nods, her eyes never leaving mine.

"I didn't come here on some suicide mission," I say, though I think she knows that isn't strictly true. I don't use words lightly. When I said I would die for her, I meant it. "I came for two reasons. The first was to find Erudite's two central control rooms so that when we invade, we'll know what to destroy first to get rid of all the simulation data, so she can't activate the Dauntless's transmitters."

She stares at me and says nothing. I take her other hand. I want to help her hold on, but I'm the one who can't let go.

"The second," I continue, struggling to keep my voice calm, "is to make sure you hold on, because we have a plan."

"What plan?"

"According to one of our insiders, your execution is tentatively scheduled for two weeks from today," I say. I don't want to tell her that I got that information from my mother. But I tell her the invasion plan, and she seems to accept it.

Her brow furrows. "But you told Jeanine where the factionless safe houses were."

I knew that she would hate that, though I see no reproach in her eyes. I want to tell her that the first attack yielded nothing, but we're running out of time.

"Yeah. That is problematic. But as you and I know, a lot of the factionless are Divergent, and many of them were already moving toward the Abnegation sector when I left, so only some of the safe houses will be affected. So they will still have a huge population to contribute to the invasion."

Let's hope so. Otherwise Evelyn's strategy will get us all killed.

I look at her, hoping this plan will re-energize her, give her the will to go on. But her shoulders slump, and her lip starts to tremble.

"I don't…" A tear spills down her cheek, then another. "I can't…make it that long."

I have seen Tris cry tears of anger, and tears of grief. This is the first time I have seen her cry tears of defeat, and it's tearing me apart. She can't let this place beat her. This is not who she is. I want to talk to her softly, kiss her, touch her, give her hope. But she is Six, and I am Four, and even together, we can't leave those parts of us behind. There is a reason the Abnegation tend to die. The Dauntless brutality, the fights, the lack of pity, the pride – it all helps us to survive.

"Tris," I say, her instructor again. "You have to. You have to survive this."

"Why?" she moans. She is sobbing now, and my heart aches. "Why do I have to? Why can't someone else do something for once? What if I don't want to do this anymore?"

She left my arms and my bed in Dauntless full of selfless purpose. Now she is giving into grief, and death, and defeat. This war is slowly killing her, and she's forgotten how to fight back.

"I know," I say softly, my steely resolve forgotten. "I know it's hard. The hardest thing you've had to do."

She shakes her head, closing her eyes, willing the tears away. I put a finger under her chin and raise her face to mine.

"I can't force you. I can't make you want to survive this." I pull her against me, running my fingers over her hair, unable to handle the desperation in her eyes. Screw hope. What she needs is strength, and she has always had more of that than me. All I can do is remind her. "But you will do it. It doesn't matter if you believe you can or not. You will, because that's who you are."

Suddenly, she is kissing me, her lips desperate and hungry, her hands running over my back, squeezing my arms. I kiss her back, and I'm not sure if she's holding on, or letting go.

Maybe she is doing both.

The door bursts open, and I never get to ask her why.


	24. Chapter 24

**A/N at end. I do not own Insurgent or anything else from the world created by Veronica Roth. I also would also like to acknowledge the shameless borrowing of a line from "Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night," by Dylan Thomas.**

* * *

_They that love beyond the world cannot be separated by it. Death cannot kill what never dies._

William Penn, _Some Fruits of Solitude_

Faking an escape attempt gets you locked up in a bathroom.

We were separated, instantly, but I expected that. They dragged Tris away from me, out of the supply closet, down the stark white hallway. I thought they would beat me up and throw me back in my cell. Instead they just threw me in here and locked the door. I'm sure they thought this was a clever punishment, to make me sleep by a toilet. But for a claustrophobic, it's a step up – larger space, a door with a window, and cracked, dingy tile. Compared to the sterility of the rest of the compound, this place looks almost human.

It also shares a wall with Jeanine's primary laboratory.

I have Jeremy to thank for that bit of knowledge. He comes and goes, feeding me tiny scraps of information along with the prison food, tips that burst out of him almost as if he can't control himself.

Maybe he is Divergent too.

At least it isn't silent here. I can hear the Erudite that walk the halls, their voices soft and calm like the Abnegation, but lacking the dutiful warmth that comes with talking about the needs of others. I have never missed the Dauntless compound more – the darkness, the dirt, the busted training gear – there, the basest human instincts are right out in the open, the fights and the fear, bravery and bloodlust. Cake, sex, and death. I used to be contemptuous of them, but no longer. I've seen the other factions now, and they're no better. Animals, just like the rest of us.

So I sit, count the hours, and listen. I tell myself that I am listening for intelligence, to help the invasion. But all I really want to hear is Tris, her low, calm voice, telling me again what she said the night we got together – that she can't be fearless, that she still cares about her life. Instead I get dripping water and slamming doors, marching feet and murmurs, the monotonous routine of Erudite's well-oiled war machine.

But every machine has a breaking point.

The muffled shriek of anger is the first clue that something is wrong. Two women, arguing, and then screams, the sound bursting through the tile walls like a wrecking ball. Doors slam, and I hear footsteps, marching down the hall towards me. The lock beeps, and Lark, Jeremy, and two other guards step inside, guns drawn.

"If he moves, shoot him," says a voice, breathing heavily.

Jeanine.

She pushes past the traitors, and I blink, shocked. She looks deranged. Her hair is messy, and livid scratch marks cover her cheeks and neck. A trickle of blood drips from her nose, and she has the beginning of a black eye. She frowns, her lower lip sticking out petulantly like a bully who just got beat up by the class geek.

I can't help it – I smile. Only one person in this building could affect her this way. I swore I would destroy her, but this is ten times better.

"Trouble in the lab?" I raise an eyebrow, and she scowls. "What happened? Did the rat fight back?"

"Shut up, asshole." Lark snaps. Behind her, Jeremy's mouth twitches.

Jeanine draws in a shaky breath, fighting to regain control. "Tell me how she does it," she growls, fists clenched.

"Does what?" I ask, staring her down. "Punch you in the face? Make you so angry you forget how to think straight?" I can't keep the smug grin off my face, because Tris has done both of those things to me. She has broken me, and remade me, and I am stronger for it - something Jeanine will never understand.

"You…stupid….stubborn…Divergents!" She starts to pace, wiping her bleeding nose with the back of her hand, smearing a streak of red across her face. "You're even worse than the Stiffs! You're ruining everything!" she shrieks, whirling to face me. "_I_ should be the leader! Me! We don't need change, we need stability! Prosperity! Logical progression for the people of this city!"

"So you're doing this for our own good," I say, my voice icy. She's just another Marcus dressed in blue, another coward who cares about nothing but control.

She catches sight of my expression, and looks away, frowning. "I certainly don't need to explain myself to you."

"I think you need to explain yourself to all of us. Preferably in front of a firing squad."

"That's ironic, considering your present predicament." She puts her nose in the air and smiles, calmer, though her hands still shake. I fold my arms and say nothing. "You've seen her manipulate the simulations. I know you have, because you hid it from your own leadership. Tell me how she does it."

I don't know why Tris's mind is so powerful. Not that it matters. Even if I knew exactly how she can smash unbreakable glass, or shrug off the truth serum's weight, or place her hand on my heart and bring me back from the gates of hell, I would never tell Jeanine. I would rather die.

"Tell me. Now!"

I straighten up, and clench my fists. My jaw is so tense with anger I can barely get the word out.

"No."

She steps closer to me, and the guards raise their weapons higher.

"Tell me."

"Or what? You'll kill me?" I scoff. "Who will you test your stupid serums on? The Candor?"

"No, I won't kill you," she says softly.

I raise my chin. Lark presses her gun to my forehead. Jeanine puts her face right next to mine and whispers.

"Tell me…or I'll kill _her_."

* * *

She is bluffing. I know she is. The Erudite have been conditioned to search out knowledge and reject emotion, and Jeanine is their chief scientist. She would never eliminate her primary research subject. If she wants revenge, she will have her Dauntless lackeys put a bullet in my brain instead.

But my head is full of Tris, her cloudy eyes, dimmed by grief, dipping down into darkness. Her body floating, weightless and broken. I can't stop the images; I can't face the fact that the most cowardly part of me sees her already dead.

In Lower Levels, we learn about each faction's most important holiday. For the Candor, it's Labor Day, a celebration of the honesty of hard work – from the faction that never gets their hands dirty. The Amity love Christmas, the holiday of peace and giving – fueled by very special bread. The Erudite stop their studies for Explorers' Day, to honor the spirit of discovery – though they rarely seek adventure. For the Dauntless, Freedom Day, a summer orgy of fireworks and beer that usually ends with someone blasting off a finger or losing an eye.

The Abnegation don't do any of those. They don't celebrate. They commemorate. Their chief holiday is Memorial Day.

Of all the faction rituals, nothing is more beautiful than an Abnegation funeral…and nothing is more repressive. A whole community gathers to honor the dead, and take care of the people they leave behind. The leaders preach acceptance. But the mourners cannot heal. Instead, they must project outwards, and think of others – always fading into a river of grey. They will live, and they will serve...even if it means they die.

I am not ready to do that. I am too angry. At Tris, for mourning her parents like a Stiff. At myself, for not seeing the depths of her despair. At Evelyn and Marcus, for betraying values they pretended to cherish. At the factions, who have forgotten everything they stand for.

I am so damn angry. And I am not ready to honor the dead. I don't believe in acceptance. I look for hope, and I have learned to fight.

The day's murmurs fade. I sit on the cold tile, and rage against the dying of the light.

* * *

Early the next morning, the door opens, and Jeremy walks in. I assume he's here to bring me a meal, until I notice his hands are empty. He stands by the door awkwardly, his hand hovering over the gun on his belt. My eyes narrow.

"What?"

"I just don't think it's right," he says, looking at the floor.

"What's not right?" I snap. He says nothing, and my gut twists in dread - a Dauntless traitor with a moral crisis is a very bad sign. Either he is about to shoot me, or…

Fear shoots up my spine, a cold spear of terror and helplessness. "Jeremy, what are you talking about?" My voice echoes off the tile walls, loud, desperate. He finally raises his eyes to mine.

"She's Dauntless. One of the brave. We take care of our own – the good and the bad."

No. This can't be happening.

"You're a Dauntless leader," he says fiercely. "So you know that better than anyone." I stare at him, and my hands start to tremble. "I'm sorry, Four. About Tris." He places his hand on the doorknob. "I wanted you to know that."

I was so wrong. Jeanine wasn't bluffing – I was. She saw my pride, and called it. Tris broke her, and I rubbed salt in her wounds. I knew she wanted to win. I could have told her something. I could have compromised. I could have lied. Instead I was stubborn, and I was selfless.

I was just like Tris. And she will pay the price.

I can feel the panic coursing through my body; I raise my fist to my chest, physically pounding on it in an effort to keep myself under control. There has to be a way to act.

"When?" I croak, and cough, once, twice. The fear is rising in my throat like bile. I start to plead. "You can let me out. Tell them I escaped. I'll find her. I'll help her."

Jeremy shakes his head.

"It's too late. They're taking her down now," he says dully. I tense, ready to spring for the door, but he pulls his weapon on me, and backs away.

"I'm sorry," he repeats, "I thought you should know."

He keeps his finger on the trigger. I launch myself at him anyway. The door slams in my face.

"Come back here, you coward," I scream. "Jeremy! You fucking coward! You can't do this! Jeremy!" I pound on the door until the glass starts rattling, yelling and cursing until I have no idea what I'm saying anymore.

I hear boots in the hallways, voices – a crowd. They are there – Dauntless and Erudite. Traitors. Killers. They are watching as she passes, eyes bright and head held high. She is near. I know it. I can feel it.

"Tris!" I shout, and it sounds like a sob. Everyone can hear it, and I don't care. "I want to see her. Tris – I want to see her. I want to see her!"

Four is dead. Love killed him. Love broke him. Years of control, of planning and strategy and reserve, none of matters. It's all gone. I am hopeless. I am Tobias, locked in the dark, out of options. I have never felt more powerless…or more alone.

The Dauntless never grieve. Instead they drink and fight and pierce themselves until they no longer feel pain. I don't know why they bother, because it doesn't work. I will never get over feeling this. I could scream until my voice breaks; I could bash my head into the tiles until the blood flows. I could smash my hands against the glass until my bones shatter. There's no point – I've done it before. I am Divergent, and I always knew that my fear landscape could turn real.

And then it does.

As my voice turns hoarse from yelling, a small hand presses against the window, reaching towards the light. The fingers are thin and delicate, though the nails are bitten raw.

"Tris," I breathe, and step up to meet her. She looks up at me. Her face is pale, her blond hair tucked behind her ears. She stands on her toes to reach the window, a bird ready to take flight. Her eyes are clear blue, the sky after a spring rain. They are sad, but not for her. She grieves for me.

I can't look at her anymore. I put my hand against hers and close my eyes.

"I love you, Stiff," I whisper. And even though the glass is cold and thick, I feel the warmth of her hand leave mine. She is gone, and I have failed her.

I sink to the floor and put my head in my hands. Through the door, I hear Peter's high cold voice.

"Clear a path!"

I hear the pounding of fists on walls – the Dauntless, calling her home.

_Be brave, Tris._

The slam of a door. Her voice in my head.

_Be brave._

* * *

**A/N: Thank you for the reviews and encouragement, which really helped me through these Erudite chapters. Please keep it up as things get happier! I would also like to thank rock star LolaBleu for being my beta for this chapter and getting me over the hump – if you haven't checked out her story _Three Parts Dead_, you should. Immediately.**

**I wrote the bulk of this chapter the day 20 children and 6 teachers were gunned down at Sandy Hook Elementary School, and then I put it away. I couldn't look at it or finish it for a long time. It is a chapter about revenge and grief and violence, and I wrote most of it fueled by tears…and rage. But it's also about love, the kind of love that can transcend death. I know that kind of love, and my words will never do it justice – but this is for them.**

**Peace to you all for the holidays and the new year. Peace now, more than ever. And rage, rage against the dying of the light.**

**~wk**


	25. Chapter 25

**I'm back! I'm very, very sorry this took so long, but truth be told, I was burned out on this story for a long time. I think I'm back in the zone now. Hope you're still reading. I am overwhelmed with the number of hits, favorites, follows and reviews for this story. Thank you so much. And hopefully it was worth the wait - longest chapter yet. Read and review please! ~wk**

**I do not own Insurgent. And straight from the KF playlist...**

_Emancipate yourselves from mental slavery,_

_None but ourselves can free our minds.  
_

__-Bob Marley, _Redemption Song_

* * *

A friend once told me I had a busy mind.

A dead friend.

There have been few times in my life where my thoughts were calm. Not during my childhood, walking on eggshells around Marcus and his moods. Not in the Dauntless compound, hiding my past. But there, I did learn how to focus when it counts, to zero in on what matters.

The distance to a target. The wind from the train. The sting of a tattoo. The knockout punch.

But none of my training prepared me for Tris. Being with her is like taking a joy ride on that decaying Ferris wheel – dizzying heights, crushing depths, and a total, utter lack of control.

The first time I kissed her, my thoughts were racing, and nothing was certain. She was stiff, and I was nervous, hoping the roaring water of the chasm would cover my pounding heartbeat.

The second time I kissed her was the first time I had ever felt peace.

Now I am not calm, I am not peaceful, I am not sad. I am not focused. I am not anything.

I am empty.

This is how Tris felt, when she lost the people she loved. I didn't listen to her; I didn't understand how grief could make you feel like you have nothing left to lose. Now I know, and now I will join her. I will go through the motions of war, of living in a world where life has no value. I will look for death in hopes of seeing her again.

But I will not do that here.

The lock beeps, and I tense, ready to fight. But as the door is pushed open, all I see is one bare foot, small and still. Her foot. Then her leg, her body, limp, held in the arms of a traitor. She is dead, and Jeanine is using her like a weapon.

And it works. I lose it. I completely lose it.

"Oh my god. Oh – "

"Spare me your blubbering, okay?" Peter says. "She's not dead; she's just paralyzed. It'll only last for about a minute. Now get ready to run."

I stare at him. He's sweating, his hair askew, wide eyes shifting around the room, searching for attackers when he should be mortally afraid of a single threat – me.

At that moment, I am sure of only two things.

For the first time since I've known him, this Candor-born liar is telling me the truth.

Tris is alive, and somehow, Peter has saved her. _He_ saved her, instead of me.

I fight off the urge to tear my girlfriend out of his arms while simultaneously strangling him.

"Let me carry her," I snap at him.

"No. You're a better shot than I am. Take my gun. I'll carry her."

I have no idea what kind of game he's playing, but if he's willing to arm me while carrying her, then he just bought his ticket out of here. I grab his weapon and hold the door open. I can't stop myself from touching Tris's forehead as he passes. It feels warm. It feels alive.

We start running.

"Left!" Peter yells, and we duck down a new hallway. A Dauntless guard steps out of a doorway and shouts. I put a round in his head without hesitation.

We pound past a stairway…and the exit. I shoot Peter a look. "Right!" he puffs, Tris jolting in his arms. I tear my eyes away from her, and just in time. Two Dauntless traitors are running towards us, rifles in hand. I shoot both of them in the chest before they can take aim.

Peter stops in front of a door near the end of the corridor.

"Wait, stop here!"

He opens it and charges through, being none too careful with his burden. I reach out to stop him, but to my shock, Tris sticks her arm out and grabs the door frame.

"Careful," she croaks, barely audible. Peter turns to the side and brings her through, slamming the door behind us with his heel. Then he unceremoniously dumps her on the floor.

I don't notice where we are. I forget that I've just killed three people. All I see is her.

"Tris," I say, crouching next to her. She looks at me, blinking slowly as the color returns to her cheeks.

"Beatrice," she whispers, and even here, I laugh a little, because she is right.

It is a special occasion, a holiday.

Redemption Day.

"Beatrice," I agree against her lips, and kiss her softly. I don't close my eyes. I want to keep her in view, awake and breathing and alive.

"Unless you want me to throw up all over you guys, you might want to save it for later," snarks Peter. A few choice insults spring to mind, but he's right. Now is not the time.

"Where are we?" Tris asks.

"This is the trash incinerator," Peter says, and for the first time, I take in my surroundings. We're in front of a square metal door, preparing to leave with the rest of the rubbish – the perfect exit from this hellhole. "I turned it off. It'll take us to the alley. And then your aim had better be perfect, Four, if you want to get out of the Erudite sector alive."

"Don't concern yourself with my aim." I glare at him. One more crack like that and I'll punch him, even if he is helping us.

After one last obnoxious smirk, he opens the chute. "Tris, you first."

I help her swing her legs into the opening and watch her slide down, wincing at the groan of pain I hear echoing up from the bottom. I cover Peter as he slides down next, and then follow, taking care not to bang the metal grate behind me as I fall. I land awkwardly on my knees, trying to protect my bare feet, and Tris is already by my side, helping me up. She's filthy, coated in ash, her hair hanging limply around her face. But her eyes are clear and bright and full of fire. Her eyes are choosing life. I squeeze her hand and walk towards the open door.

"Got that gun?" Peter says.

"No. I figured I would shoot the bullets out of my nostrils, so I left it upstairs."

"Oh, shut up."

A smile dances around the edge of Tris's lips as we walk down the short hallway, the bright blue light from the exit sign shining across her face. She is alive, and I will take her home.

* * *

The back alleys behind Erudite are empty, and it makes me uneasy. I motion to Tris and Peter to stay put as I peer around corners. I subdue my dread; I pretend I have no feelings at all. I already know this will end the way it started – me killing, them dying. It's the only way out.

We reach the last turn, and I see two Dauntless traitors, on guard behind the building. We will have to cross in front of them. I steady my arm against the wall, and calm my thoughts.

Inhale. Aim. Exhale.

I fire two shots, and they go down. Then one pops up and runs for the entrance, clutching a bleeding arm. In five minutes we will be surrounded.

"Hurry!" I shout at Tris and Peter. Tris is leaning against the wall, her fingers in her ears and her mouth set in a thin line. I jerk my head at her, and she follows Peter, sprinting across the main road. He turns down a clear secondary road, one that leads straight to the train tracks, exactly where they'll think we'll go.

"Take the least logical route!" I yell at him.

"What?"

"The least logical route. So they won't find us!"

Peter ducks down an alley back towards the lake, a trash-strewn shortcut full of abandoned factionless squats. Tris crashes through boxes ahead of me and I can see her energy start to flag. We are both barefoot, and the rough pavement is starting to take a toll. It has to be worse for her – I have two more years' worth of Dauntless mileage on my feet.

Peter turns down Michigan Avenue, in full sight of the front entrance to the Nerd Empire. Tris lunges out to catch him.

"Bad idea!"

We turn right, and I start to hear shouts. I start to cast around for cover, a wall to make a stand behind to give Tris a chance to run for it. But then she stops, grabbing Peter's arm, panting and pointing at the nearest building. She's one step ahead of me, as usual. The least logical route is to stop running entirely.

I shoot out a window towards the back and unlock a door. The place is completely empty, like most of the buildings just beyond faction borders. It smells like cat piss and mold, all the better to keep the Erudite looking elsewhere. We find the emergency stairs and crawl beneath them, a small space just open enough to keep my claustrophobia from kicking in.

Tris sits next to me, and I run my hand up her arm, but she barely notices. She is still breathing hard, just one click shy of panic. She is looking at Peter like he just fell from the sky, an alien life form that looks harmless but could turn deadly at any moment.

"What?" he says. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

"How did you do it?" she says, her breathing finally slowing as she stares at him.

"It wasn't that hard," Peter says, leaning back against the wall. "I dyed a paralytic serum purple and switched it out with the death serum. Replaced the wire that was supposed to read your heartbeat with a dead one. I had to get some Erudite help with a remote and stuff – you wouldn't understand it if I explained it to you."

I wonder who helped him.

"_Why_ did you do it?" Tris says, the words echoing against the concrete walls. I put my hand on hers and she lowers her voice. "You _want_ me dead. You were willing to do it yourself. What changed?"

Peter says nothing for a long time. I recognize the look on his face, because it's been on mine. He has a past, or feelings, or motivations that he doesn't want to share. But he will. Tris has a way of disarming people, an earnest, stubborn truth to her that opens them up, puts them on edge. She got under Peter's skin before, and without even trying, she's done it again.

"I can't be in anyone's debt. Okay?" he finally explains. "The idea that I owed you something made me sick. I would wake up in the middle of the night feeling like I was going to vomit. Indebted to a Stiff? It's ridiculous. Absolutely ridiculous. And I couldn't have it."

My eyes widen in understanding, because suddenly, the one fear of Peter's I never understood makes perfect sense. During stage two, his fear simulations were so pedestrian they were almost pitiful. Being factionless. Public humiliation. Failing at school. Being buried alive. Falling off a train. Rejection from girls. Ranking last. They went on and on. The only reason he ranked so high is because he got out of them relatively quickly – except for one.

In it, a pudgy Candor boy stood in front of Peter in an empty room, just looking at him accusingly. When Peter saw him, he started to tremble, and he couldn't lower his heart rate no matter how hard he tried. Finally, Peter just started beating the kid up, screaming at him to shut up, that he didn't owe him anything. And the boy just stood there and took it until Peter curled up in a ball, sobbing. I never got why a psycho like Peter fell to pieces in that simulation. He wouldn't even look at me when it was over. I just filed it away as more evidence of his cowardice, but now it has a lot more meaning. He has at least one debt he will never repay.

"The Amity compound," Peter is saying to Tris as she shakes her head in disbelief. "Someone shot me – the bullet was at head level; it would have hit me right between the eyes. And you shoved me out of the way. We were even before that – I almost killed you during initiation, you almost killed me during the attack simulation; we're square right? But after that…"

It's like a laundry list of payback. It's the worst thing I've ever heard.

"You're insane," I tell him. "That's not the way the world works…with everyone keeping score."

"It's not?" He looks at me, eyes cold. "I don't know what world you live in, but in mine, people only do things for you for one of two reasons. The first is if they want something in return. And the second is if they feel like they owe you something."

"Those aren't the only reasons people do things for you," Tris says. "Sometimes they do them because they love you. Well, maybe not _you_, but –"

Peter snorts. "That's exactly the kind of garbage I expect a delusional Stiff to say."

The color rises in Tris's cheeks, and I give her hand a squeeze. But I keep my eyes on Peter. His worldview is warped and psychotic, but unlike Tris, I understand it. I spent my childhood fantasizing about payback and revenge. I was a firsthand witness of Marcus's brand of so-called selfless manipulation. When I was an initiate, I fell into the trap of "owing" someone a beating, more than once. It was one of the reasons I wanted to leave Dauntless, to run away again, to avoid the worst aspects of myself.

Apparently Peter doesn't avoid them - he embraces them.

I give him a hard look over Tris's head, and the meaning is clear – no more keeping score. "I guess we just have to make sure you owe us. Or you'll go running to whoever offers you the best deal."

"Yeah, that's pretty much how it is."

He looks down, and I hope that means he got the message.

"So when can we get out of here, you think?" he says.

"Couple hours. We should go to the Abnegation sector. That's where the factionless and the Dauntless who aren't wired for simulations will be by now."

"Fantastic," the psycho says.

I put my arm around Tris, who looks ready to drop. I turn, shielding her from Peter as she closes her eyes. I revel in the warmth of her skin, her slow, steady heartbeat. There will be much to say, but not here, and not now.

* * *

House number 37 looks smaller since the last time I was here. Maybe it no longer looms in my memory like it once did. Maybe it's because I know Marcus isn't here. I'm still thankful for the concern on Tris's face as we limp up the steps, though I'm far more worried about her than me. It wasn't until we reached the streets of Abnegation that she finally gave into exhaustion and pain, shrinking into herself to avoid staring eyes. I could tell by her hunched shoulders that she was glad I had warned her friends away. I can't wait until I can tell Peter to get lost as well – Evelyn can deal with him.

We walk into the kitchen, and Tris shuts her eyes against the light, leaning into the wall. Tori, Harrison, and Evelyn are standing at the table. Tori moves towards Tris, but I catch her eye and shake my head no, mouthing "later." That doesn't stop my mother though.

"See? You helped her. You helped me. You helped everyone," she says in my ear. I let her embrace me, and when I pull away, I smile. I don't trust her yet, but now is not the time to antagonize her – and strangely, it feels good to have her approval.

I look at Tris, and I can tell that she's had all she can handle. I put a hand on her waist and lead her out, steering her up the staircase and into my old bedroom.

"Marcus didn't go into this room after I left, I'm pretty sure," I say. "Because nothing was moved when I came back here."

I haven't stood here since I was sixteen. It feels foreign now, like a scene from a textbook - the hospital corners on the bed, the neatly stacked school papers, the grey walls. A stranger lived here, the Stiff, before he chose to be free. I keep my hands on Tris, to stay rooted in the present, to make sure we are still alive.

Her eyes fall on the blue glass sculpture on the dresser, the only object of color in the room.

"My mother smuggled that to me when I was young. Told me to hide it. The day of the ceremony, I put it on my dresser before I left. So he would see it. A small act of defiance."

Tris nods silently. I watch her eyes roam around the room. Sometimes I wonder why she wants me, with all of my baggage.

Maybe she doesn't.

"Let's take care of your feet."

"Okay."

She walks into the bathroom like she's on autopilot, propelled by my hand on her back. I feel like if I let go of her, she'll fade away. We sit on the edge of the tub, and I turn the water on. The blood from our feet turns the water pink.

I crouch in front of her and wash her feet, picking the glass out of her cuts. She doesn't even flinch. I soap each foot, and the water turns grey. It sloshes over my knees, soaking my jeans, and I realize that this is an Abnegation ritual. It is what I would have done for her if we had stayed here, on initiation day.

Then she moves, grabbing my hands, running soap through my fingers, over my palms, washing the blood from my hands. She is washing me clean.

Soon, we're both soaked, but the blood is gone. She shivers as I start to dry her hands.

"I don't – "

I look up at the anguish in her voice.

"My family is all _dead_, or traitors; how can I – "

Her tears mix with the bathwater and the tap drips and her sobs echo as the full force of her sorrow hits me, a tidal wave of grief. I gather her to me and hold on tight. I wait until her crying ebbs and the dripping stops. I wait until her hand slips over my heart, her nails pressing gently into my shirt.

"I'll be your family now," I say.

"I love you."

The words slip out along a river of grief, so quiet and quick, nearly gone before they began. Words I had given up all hope of hearing, because I know how little I deserve them.

She stares at me, clutching my arms, laid bare. It is hard to believe that this is real, that I am hers and she is mine.

"Say it again."

"Tobias," she says, "I love you."

Her low voice is like music, and her thin limbs feel fragile as I slide my arms around her. I kiss the tips of the tattooed feathers on her collarbone, the sharp angles of her cheekbones, her chapped lips, bitten and worried. I drink in her bright eyes.

"I love you, too."


	26. Chapter 26

**A/N: Anyone still out there? I hope so. I never intended to take so long between updates, but life has been very...complicated...recently. I was also stuck on this for a really long time, because I never felt like Insurgent explained why Tobias suddenly became so willing to reconcile with his mother and work with her. It bugged me. A lot. This (finally) is the result. Thanks to LolaBleu for dealing with my cranky moods and doing beta duty on this chapter. And KF readers, if you're still out there, let me know and review. Reviews keep me writing, and I appreciate each and every one. I really do. Thanks for reading and sticking with me.  
**

**peace**

**~wk**

**PS: This chapter contains shameless references to two of my other stories - a group of hackers mentioned in "Destroying Lives," and Four's aptitude test in "As Expected." You can check them out if you haven't read them. **

* * *

The day dawns watery and grim, a meek sunrise that can't seem to burn through the fog. Outside and inside, I am surrounded by grey. Tris is still asleep, her body barely there beneath the blankets. I watch her chest rise and fall, counting her breaths, syncing them with mine.

She is alive, and she loves me.

Last night, we stumbled from the bathroom into my bedroom, soaking wet and clutching each other. I kissed her in the moonlight and she put my hand over her heart, so I could feel it beating. I tasted the tears that still leaked from her eyes.

I want to kiss her awake, but in the weak light of morning the grey walls bring me up short. It seems wrong to see her here, all creamy skin and bare shoulders, sleeping peacefully in this place, ground zero for all of my nightmares. But even if we weren't in Marcus's house, it would still feel weird to love her in Abnegation, the home of humility and denial, not desire. My love for Tris is full of need and want and feeling – it's selfish and visceral and Dauntless, hurtling headfirst into the void, leaping off trains without looking, closing your eyes as a knife spins toward your heart. It's giving up my life for her, but making damn sure I die fighting.

My eyes find the patch of blue dye on her arm, a vivid stain more vibrant than the eye tattooed on my back. My stomach clenches with a more familiar emotion for this room.

Rage.

The Erudite have left their mark on both of us.

* * *

I walk out on to the porch in search of some air, a glimpse of green in place of grey.

Someone is already sitting there.

"Tobias," says my mother. "We need to talk."

"I slept just fine after a week of being tortured and interrogated, Evelyn. Thanks for asking."

She sighs and motions to the chair next to her, staring me down until I sit. "I worried about you. You know that." she says, her voice softening. "But it worked, didn't it? You found the control rooms. And Tris is alive."

"No thanks to me. Or you."

Evelyn puts her hand on my arm. "Don't blame yourself," she says. "I don't need you to tell me what happened. Our spies already have. Tris hastened her own execution. She attacked Jeanine. She had to know there would be consequences."

I nod stiffly. I'm not sure why my mother has such disdain for my girlfriend. There must be an angle to it. She seems to have one for everything else.

"She knew," I say, with a note of pride, remembering Jeanine's battered face and wild eyes. "And she was prepared to accept them."

"Were you?"

I don't answer her, or meet her gaze. She finally turns, looking out down the street, towards the Brewster house where Marcus has been staying. "Maybe she didn't want to be rescued."

I roll my eyes. I don't need my mother to tell me that Tris has a death wish. We've been fighting about it for months.

"Mother," I snap. Her head swings around at the word. "What Tris wants is none of your business. So stay out of it."

"If your emotions affect your decision making, it is my business. We are allies after all."

Suddenly, I am furious again. I am sick of trusting no one, of questioning everyone's motives, even the people who are supposed to care about me. If I didn't have Tris, I would go hop the fence right now and leave this cesspool of a city behind. But I do have Tris. I know exactly who she is, and her motives are pure. The only way I'm leaving her is in a body bag.

"I am fighting against anyone who condones mind control and murder. I'm fighting for people who can't fight for themselves. That's all I care about. If any of your factionless friends can't get behind that, they need to leave. Now."

"You don't understand us at all," my mother says. "Anyone who has to live the way we do, without a faction, without support or family…" She looks at me, her dark eyes burning into mine. "We are all victims – of rejection, of brutality, or just stepping out of line. Of control. All of us, including me. And you."

I stand up and start to pace, angry. "I'm not a child, Evelyn, and I'm not a victim. I couldn't live my life thinking of myself that way. And neither should you."

"You're right."

The tone of her voice surprises me. It is soothing, soft, a long dead memory of how she used to be. She walks over to me and puts her hand on my arm again. This time, I don't shake it off.

"I'm proud of you, you know. You learned how to stand up for yourself, to make your own life, to excel. You learned how to be a leader, without being a bully."

Her mouth lifts in that small smile unique to the Abnegation, who understand that paying someone a compliment can make them uncomfortable. For the first time in years, I see the part of her that once chose to wear grey. And it does make me uncomfortable – the praise, the dig at Marcus, that she's comparing us at all.

Maybe I am being too harsh with her. I have never had this before, a parent expressing something other than scorn. I have also never seen Evelyn look so sincere. Maybe she means it.

Maybe she'll say anything to get what she wants.

I rub my face in irritation. She is right about one thing. We are at war, and I can't let my emotions influence my decisions. But for once, Tris isn't the problem – she is.

"What do you need from us?" I ask her.

"Exactly what you would expect, I imagine," she says, all business again. "Experienced fighters. Training. Weapons."

I nod. "We'll get your people ready."

"I want you to work with the Faceless, to make sure the Erudite data is destroyed."

"No way. They're total anarchists. They'll hack the hell out of the system and hide whatever they feel like keeping."

"You can supervise them personally."

I sigh. The closer this comes to reality, the more extreme it seems. "Do you really have to unleash the virtual apocalypse? Some of that is useful information. Medical technology, cultural records –"

"You agreed to this."

"I know. I also know that data is the only thing an Erudite would die for. I've seen…" I pause, swallowing hard, remembering Tris wincing at a gun in a Candor bathroom sink, Shauna's blood dripping down my back, my bullet slamming into a guard's chest, the dull thud of Eric's body hitting the floor. "I've _done_…enough killing."

"They started the killing, Tobias. Their technology made this war possible. If it isn't destroyed, it will happen again."

It is logical, like the faction she came from. But it doesn't hide the vengeful glint in her eye. The factionless have been marginalized and desperate for longer than I've been alive. Their desire for power is legitimate, but my mother's means to that end could result in chaos.

I look down the street, the squat grey houses and spare, simple yards, the place that formed me, a place of order and courtesy and industry. Now, it is full of broken windows and bullet holes, frightened children and untrained fighters armed with clubs. Next door, a half-naked factionless man is taking a shower with a garden hose.

Chaos is already here.

"This city is corrupt, and inflexible, and inhumane. The faction system is dead, Tobias. Help me put it out of its misery."

She talks as if she's putting down a dog. My mind flashes back to my aptitude test, standing over that snarling, simulated beast with knife in hand. I didn't kill the dog, not at first. I tried to tame it, and I thought it worked – until it attacked someone I cared about.

That's when I slit its throat.

"Yeah," I say slowly. "It's time for a change."

Through the open window, I hear coughing and murmurs. People are waking up; the house is much fuller than I realized last night. My mother straightens up and smiles at me.

"You can start by meeting some of the people you'll lead. Most of them have been camping out in our basement."

I scowl at her. "If Edward calls me Toby again I _will_ punch him."

She shrugs. "Feel free. Somebody punches him at least once a day anyway, and he usually deserves it."

I feel like I am being pulled into another initiation, making yet another choice. Except this time I'm not running away from problems - I'm creating more of them. The war has to end. The system has to change. I have to find a way to contain the chaos.

Evelyn beckons to me as she steps inside.

She leaves the door open.


	27. Chapter 27

**I'm sorry. Really. I'm still out there, writing and then deleting, and then writing again. This is a part of the book I struggle with, but we'll get there, because I already know what I want to do at the end. I will finish this before Allegiant comes out. I will.**

**Thanks for reading, favorites, alerts, begging for updates, and most of all, reviewing! - from old and new readers alike. You guys are the best, and even if it takes awhile, I'll deliver. I promise! More to come soon...**

**peace**

**~wk**

* * *

I grew up with routines and patterns, designed to help me anticipate others' needs, regimented rules that I was expected to follow without question.

That's what I fall back on, when I step through the open door.

I walk into the empty kitchen, my mind in turmoil, and I am fifteen again. Grab a pan, crack eggs, slice bread, wash, butter, stir, serve. Always serve. No talking, no yelling, no laughter. Just the sizzle from the stove and the scrape of the spatula against cast iron. I can almost hear the rustle of my father's newspaper, feel his stare burning into my back.

I try not to shudder.

I pick up the pot full of scrambled eggs and turn to find a dish. From behind me, I hear the dull clunk of a tin can.

"Use this," my mother says. Her eyes are full of questions which I'm not ready to answer. I take the can from her fingers and pour the eggs inside. She smiles – small, lips closed. That makes me want to shudder even more.

Then I walk out of the silent Stiff kitchen and into a Divergent living room.

Five people sit on a couch built for three, slamming cards down on the coffee table. A woman is draped over an older man in my father's armchair, nibbling on his ear. People move in and out in various states of undress on the way to the shower, and their clothes are a ragged rainbow, looks from everywhere, belonging nowhere. The noise, mess, and fuss banishes the sullen silence that once defined my father's living room.

My mother starts to introduce me to people, pointing and calling out nicknames like Mikey, Bess, Nanny, and Radar. She uses my real name, and I forget to care.

A tough-looking elderly man called Luther pulls a guitar from behind the couch, and starts to play. I sit, watching the fading tattoos move across the ropy muscles of his arms. They are dark chains, linked, unbroken. I lean my head back and listen to the song, a rough, mournful tale of love gone wrong that quickly turns dirty. The men in the room start to sing along, grinning, but the laughter still takes me by surprise.

It's full and loud, a belly laugh from someone who, in the midst of war, is suddenly happy. It's a momentary break, this laugh, and it's catching, filling the room as others join in.

What's surprising is it's coming from me.

I'm living with a bunch of rejects. And I'm actually starting to like it.

When given a chance at food, clothing, and a warm bed, the factionless turn into real people, friendly and funny – people who eat, have sex, shit, just like any of us. I feel like I've been lied to, told to consider them as The Other – even by the Abnegation, who helped them to survive the streets, but never helped them to feel human.

The factions have lied to all of us.

I close my eyes and let the talk and gossip and music and laughter wash over me, a wave of sound that feels like acceptance. There is no posturing here, growling and threats to cover up fear. No thin-lipped smiles, denying desire. No artifice posing as intelligence, or hiding from human nature behind serums and apple trees. No truth without consequences. It's humanity, and it's selfish, dishonest, stupid, scared, and brutal. It's embracing our faults to learn how to overcome them. All of them.

This is a faction free zone – and it feels like home.

The conversation evaporates, and I open my eyes to see Tris standing in the doorway, Uriah, Lynn, and Christina brought up short behind her. Her hair is wet, but she looks alert, her eyes clear blue and piercing. They are filled with uncertainty, suspicion, the same expression I had on my face an hour ago. I don't think she will lose that look as easily as I did.

I open my mouth to introduce her, but my mother beats me to it.

"Everyone, this is Tris Prior. You may have heard a lot about her yesterday."

Tris wipes her hands on her jeans nervously. The last thing she needs right now is everyone staring at her.

"And Christina, Uriah, and Lynn," I say, trying to pull the eyes away. It doesn't work.

Luther pulls his fingers across the guitar strings with a screech. "Aren't you supposed to be dead?"

The tension dissolves into laughter, and Tris gives him a grudging smile.

"Supposed to be."

"We don't like to give Jeanine Matthews what she wants though," I say, getting to my feet and walking over to her with a can of eggs. I lace my fingers with hers and pull her over to sit against the wall. She starts to scoop food into her mouth, passing the can along. Despite the color in her cheeks, she still looks exhausted.

"Why is everyone camped out in Marcus's house?" she asks.

"Evelyn kicked him out. Said it was her house, too, and he'd gotten to use it for years, and it was her turn." I can't help grinning. Whether I trust my mother or not, I still wish I had seen that fight. "It caused a huge blowup on the front lawn, but eventually Evelyn won."

She looks over at Evelyn, talking to Peter in the corner. Her eyes narrow, and I decide it's best to change the subject.

"There's bread somewhere." I pick up the basket of toast from the table, lightly buttered, Abnegation style. "Take two pieces. You need it."

She takes a bite or two, but the distraction doesn't work. Her eyes travel over to my mother again. Maybe if I can get Tris to feel better about Evelyn, I might start to trust her more myself.

"I think she's trying to recruit him. She has a way of making the factionless life sound extraordinarily appealing."

My attempt at humor falls flat, and Tris scowls.

"Anything to get him out of Dauntless. I don't care if he saved my life, I still don't like him."

"Hopefully we won't have to worry about faction distinctions anymore by the time this is over. It'll be nice, I think."

The words spill out of my mouth before I realize their meaning, and their allegiance. Then I realize – I've made my decision. This is the world I want to live in. A world where our minds can open. A world where we make our own choices. A world where we can be free.

That is something I can fight for.

"Eddie!"

The voice cuts into my thoughts, and I look up to see my former top-ranked initiate pressing a fork to Peter's throat, threatening him with death by utensil. I can hear Peter gasping for air even from here.

I guess Edward fights for revenge.

That's enough," my mother snaps. He drops the fork and stalks away, muttering to himself. That is a murder just waiting to happen. Peter better watch his back.

I turn to see Tris looking at Edward, her face troubled.

"I don't know if you know this," I say, "but Edward is a little unstable." I'm being sarcastic, but the warning is serious. He's the last person I want armed and fighting beside us.

"I'm getting that," she mumbles.

I tell her about Edward nearly killing Drew, and his girlfriend Myra leaving him. Her expression tightens, and she bites down, worrying her lower lip.

"I don't want to talk about this," she says softly. I mentally kick myself for bringing it up. It's already bad enough that she has to co-exist with any of them, let alone imagine how much worse it could get. But it's too late. I can already see her face change, filling with bad memories.

"Is it hard for you to be in an Abnegation house again? I meant to ask before. We can go somewhere else, if it is."

I touch her shoulder, tracing the bone with my fingers, calling her back to me. She looks around the room, the dull, bare walls, the simple furniture, the rough wooden panel that hides our reflections.

"Yes. But not as hard as you might think."

I raise my eyebrow, skeptical, and she shoots me a tiny smile.

"Really. The simulations in Erudite headquarters…helped me somehow. To hold on, maybe," she says. Then she frowns, shaking her head. "Or maybe not. Maybe they helped me to stop holding on so tightly." She pauses, and looks away, her eyes distant. "Someday I'll tell you about it."

Someday. It's a simple word, hazy, indefinite, a vague nod toward the future. But coming from Tris, here, now, it means so much more. It means that she wants to reach forward instead of looking backward. It means she is thinking about tomorrow. It means hope.

I touch her cheek and I kiss her, slowly, softly. My lips promise a lifetime of somedays, when love will be enough, when trust will be second nature despite war and cruelty and uncertainty. The world is a mess and I'm not sure how many somedays we have left. But she wants a future for herself, for us, and that's enough for me.

A wolf whistle breaks us apart, and Tris blushes, dipping her head in embarrassment.

"Whoa there, Tobias," says the man my mother introduced as Radar. He's tall and skinny, limbs folded together like the paper cranes we used to make as children. "Weren't you raised a Stiff? I thought the most you people did was…graze hands or something."

It's the kind of crack that would have earned a fellow Dauntless member a cold, threatening stare, the kind of look that makes people back away slowly. But I'm not playing a part here, and Radar isn't the least bit intimidated. He doesn't even know that Four exists. Maybe in a factionless world, he doesn't have to.

"Then how do you explain all the Abnegation children?" I say, deadpan. Tris smiles and deliberately grazes my hand with hers, running her fingers over the fresh scars on my fists.

They're brought into being by sheer force of will," calls a curly-haired woman from across the room. "Didn't you know that, Tobias?"

I finally grin. "No, I wasn't aware. My apologies."

They burst out laughing, and I can't help joining in. Even Tris chuckles, her face brightening against the grey. I look up to see Evelyn watching us. She catches my eye and tips her soup can in a silent salute. The room dissolves into conversation and chaos and laughter once more, and despite Marcus's dingy carpet and silent halls, it all fits. I fit. My name, my past, my faction, none of it matters. Routines, rules, patterns – they don't care. They just choose, act, and survive.

My girlfriend gazes at me, her eyes thoughtful. I put my arm around her and smile. Radar whistles again, and she laughs.

The ravens on her chest move with her breaths, coming alive.


End file.
